


Gone Fishin'

by kaiz



Series: Gone Fishin' [1]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-06-21
Updated: 2001-06-21
Packaged: 2017-10-07 02:03:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 40,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaiz/pseuds/kaiz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After saving the world again, Jack finally gets to go fishing. Takes place immediately following Small Victories (4x01).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gone Fishin'

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vikster](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Vikster).



* * *

**1.**

"Do you remember still the falling stars  
that like swift horses through the heavens raced  
and suddenly leaped across the hurdles  
of our wishes--do you recall? And we  
did make so many! For there were countless numbers  
of stars: each time we looked above we were  
astounded by the swiftness of their daring play,  
while in our hearts we felt safe and secure  
watching these brilliant bodies disintegrate,  
knowing somehow we had survived their fall."--Falling Stars, Rainer Maria Rilke

Words had yet to be invented that expressed the magnitude of Jack O'Neill's relief when General Hammond closed his notebook, capped his pen, and said, "Dismissed".

Although, _hallelujah_ came damn close.

In the past few weeks he'd almost been blown up twice. Had hurtled through the atmosphere towards certain death at hypersonic speeds in Thor's burning ship, only to be whisked away at the last possible instant to some hell-hole of a planet that Teal'c dialed up.

For over a week!

His molecules had been split apart and jammed back together far too many times by too damn many 'advanced' alien devices. He'd crawled through the belly of a downed sub on a doomed salvage mission after his not-demonstrably-superior superiors ignored his advice to nuke the sucker.

Nothing like repeating the stupid mistakes of people far, far, _far_ smarter than you.

Then he'd shot up and been gnawed upon by a zillion creepy, purple and gray Lego-bug-thingies. Oh, and only a short while later, he'd faced -- and cheated -- death yet again in the same damn, bug infested Russian tin can. _God_ he hated bugs!

And they'd saved the earth.

Again.

Oh and Thor's home world, too. Apparently by being leaps and bounds stupider than your average Asgard.

Sweet.

All that, ladies and gentlemen, for only $118,266 a year. What a deal!

Jesus, he was getting too old for this shit.

Not that their tasty bit of world-saving heroics would ever translate into something _useful_. Like weapons, maybe. Or technology. Or information. Or intergalactic political influence.

Or _anything_.

Although to be fair, he did get the 'most advanced ship in the Asgard fleet' named after him. For all of twenty-six hours. Too bad Carter blew it up.

So, upon further reflection, when placed in its proper context, Hammond's three-hour, forty-minute debriefing was only the latest, least life-threatening, yet undeniably painful installment in a month-long saga of torments.

Although the shower, clean clothes, and fresh coffee had helped, at the moment he wanted nothing more than a thick, juicy steak and three or four really tall, really cold beers.

And to leave for that damn vacation he'd been planning for what seemed like forever.

Exiting the briefing room, he stole a moment between Carter's obscenely enthusiastic discussion of kiron particles, Teal'c's monotone request for leave, and Daniel's continuing insistence that he was "Just fine, really!" to fantasize about--

\--Lakes. Clear, cool sky-colored lakes. Babbling brooks. Streams filled with silver, leaping, tail dancing trout.

And no pain-in-the-ass, inscrutable aliens or mysterious technology.

Yeah, Jack smiled to himself with satisfaction. _Oh_ yeah.

He could almost taste the crisp, purple-tinged early morning, feel the moist, ghostly fingers of fog brush his skin. And the fish!

"'Night, Colonel." Carter pushed past him on the way back to her office.

Startled, he caught at her arm. "Carter, wait! I thought you and Daniel wanted to get dinner."

"Thanks sir, but I'm going to take another look at those inert segments. I think that it might be possible to disrupt the intra-component communication and interfere with their--"

"--Right, right." Jack said wearily and Carter chuckled. He'd had it with geek-speak for the evening. "I know when I'm getting ditched. And for dead bug parts, no less."

Turning to Daniel, he asked, "So...what about you? Still up for dinner? And maybe a little fishing?" He waggled his brows and smiled.

"Sure, Jack. Let's go!"

Despite his paleness and a slight favoring of his right side, Daniel actually looked pretty excited. Right up until Fraiser babbled something about "infection", "reopened incisions", and "medical clearance", and nabbed him. Then it was bye-bye Dr. Jackson.

Daniel protested, but Fraiser was a pit bull; poor guy never stood a chance. In the end, he trailed after her like a kid being dragged to the principal's office, morosely looking back over his shoulder.

Damn! So close.

After that, the hall cleared out with surprising speed. Teal'c headed off for a festive evening of scowling, meditation, and communing with his snake. Hammond headed home to his family. And the rest of the SG personnel streamed away towards unknown plans that clearly didn't include him.

"Well," Jack announced to the empty hallway. "I'm going on vacation, now."

Unsurprisingly, no one commented.

"And I sure could use it! Two weeks of rest and relaxation." He paused dramatically. "And _fishing_!"

Still no comment.

Jack curled his lip. "Being a hero sure ain't what it used to be."

Forty feet from his office -- from his jacket, his car keys, and freedom! -- he felt the tell-tale, anticipatory tingle in his bones, a prickle along his skin, and a loud roaring in his ears. Caught mid-step, he barely had time to groan, "Not again!" before his molecules were burst apart, gathered in a luminous fist, then flung upwards through thousands of miles of space.

Hopefully towards a more pleasant destination than the last time. But somehow, he doubted it.

*

"God, I _hate_ that," Jack muttered, moments after reassembling in a gray, featureless corridor, apparently aboard an Asgard ship. Sure it was a quick, efficient way to travel, but the whole process gave him the creeps.

The Asgard were smart. Really smart. But what if they screwed up the math this time? Were off by a couple of decimal points. Misplaced a few critical molecules. Or body parts. Beamed him inside a wall or something. Exactly what did these advanced civilizations have against normal ways of getting around, anyway? Whatever happened to walking? Flying even? They weren't happy unless they could scramble somebody's elementary particles.

"Thor?" He called, cautiously starting down the hallway. "Anybody home?"

No answer. The place was as deserted as the SGC. Fortunately, it also seemed to be bug-free. No small blessing given that all he had at the moment was his side arm and a single clip.

"Hey Thor, buddy! I didn't come dressed to save the world again, so how about you help me out here and tell me what's going on, hmm?"

Near silence, only the barely audible hum of unseen machinery.

"Oo-kay."

Jack exhaled heavily then continued down the corridor feeling all too much like a rat in a maze. Of course, even a rat would get a food pellet.

Damn but he was starving.

"You don't write and you don't call," he complained as he walked. "Instead, you snatch the poor, exhausted, _hungry_ just-minding-his-own-damn-business Earth-guy -- who recently saved your asses, I might add -- away from his much needed, much deserved vacation -- and dinner! -- and drop him in an empty ship god-knows-where a million miles away from any decent place to fish!

You guys may be smart, but you can be damned inconsiderate."

Mid-rant and halfway down the hall, it occurred to him that Thor could be injured again, unable to respond or summon help; he quickened his pace.

At the end of the hall, he paused a few feet before an oval portal.

"Alright, Monty. Door number three it is."

As the door slid open silently, he reflexively braced himself and stepped forward into--

\--Beauty.

Above him, the burnished, late afternoon sky arched towards a horizon obscured by dense forests that cradled a wide, still lake, a mirror of molten bronze. At his feet the hillside, thickly carpeted with blue-green grasses, rolled away towards the shore. A faint dirt path snaked between the gnarled oaks and sugar maples that were riotously clothed in the colors of autumn.

"What the hell?"

Intellectually he knew he was on a ship, thousands of miles above Earth, breathing recycled air, protected from the hard vacuum of space by Asgard wizardry. But viscerally, he had stepped backwards in time over twenty years to the shores of the much beloved lake of his youth. A lake that had long since been drained, buried, and was -- last time he'd visited -- now encrusted with row upon row of bland, cookie-cutter tract homes.

Warily, Jack drew his gun and advanced slowly, scanning for evidence of a threat or habitation. The door slid shut with a hiss and dissolved seamlessly into the curve of the sky. When he reached for where it had been, his fingers brushed against empty air.

"My god," he breathed, simultaneously amazed and alarmed. "What _is_ this place?"

Had the Asgard perfected some new kind of gate technology? Something that involved time travel? Or maybe some kind of virtual reality?

"Well, Toto. Guess we're not in Kansas anymore."

Where were his two favorite geeks when he needed them? Within seconds, Daniel and Carter would have had more theories about this place than he could shake a stick at. Teal'c might be useful too. No one did big and menacing quite like the Jaffa. Never knew when menacing might come in handy.

He walked down the hill towards the lake and dry leaves crunched under his boots, releasing a familiar musty autumn scent. When he knelt to touch the grass, it was cool, springing back lightly under his fingers. Exactly as he remembered. The air was warm and soft, but carried an unmistakable hint of coming winter ice, and out across the water, a flock of Canada geese shattered the silence, loudly calling to one another as they winged their way south.

Amazed, he tracked their graceful flight until they disappeared into the distance.

"Well, one thing ya gotta say for this job: it's never boring."

Despite his initial unease, the lush, peaceful scene, seemingly conjured from his childhood memories, invited him to relax tense muscles and immerse himself in the experience -- whatever the hell it was. To find out if the fish in that lake really were as big as he remembered.

"C'mon Thor! How 'bout a hint?"

The narrow dirt track between the trees was also familiar. He paused to fondly stroke the rough bark of a lightning-struck oak, tracing the initials he'd triumphantly carved one late summer evening, the night he'd lost his virginity -- the first time. Here and there, the waning sunlight flashed off a broken bottle or beer can. These woods were littered with the remains of a million secret adolescent trysts. Somebody scored a twelve-pack, somebody borrowed mom's station wagon, somebody rounded up the crew, and everybody hoped like hell to get lucky. Some few even did. Jack smiled, remembering.

The days and nights had seemed to stretch out forever then, an endless summer of youth, with infinite time for everything, to realize every possibility.

But that was before the bitter winter that he first learned what love _truly_ was. Before he'd lived the knowing of it and learned the nuances between friends, brothers. And lovers. Before he'd known that a man could measure his love by the depth of his grief. And by his willingness to walk through hell to spare his loved ones pain. Or to turn back time, if only for an instant.

Jack blinked rapidly then continued towards the shore, deciding to savor this improbable, bittersweet illusion a while longer.

Each step along the path called to mind the sound of laughter, the scent of the earth after it rained, the heavy weight of a pail full of just-caught fish, and the sharp, cold caress of lake water against bare skin.

Where was he, exactly? _When_ was he? What was this place? And how had Thor -- he assumed that it was Thor -- constructed this frighteningly accurate, stunning recreation of the long-ago time and place that he sometimes longed for in his most private day dreams?

"Incredible."

At the end of the path, the trees thinned out and opened onto the lake shore. And beneath a familiar towering fire oak whose spreading branches shadowed the water's edge, someone -- someone achingly familiar -- awaited him.

"Matt?" Jack's voice was hoarse. He shook his head, blinked twice, but against all known laws of physics, biology, time, and love, the tall, broad shouldered figure remained present. "Matthew? Is that you?"

And when the young man turned, when the weak sunlight flashed over the curve of his familiar smile, Jack felt as if his heart -- and time -- had stopped.

**2.**

"Again and again, however we know the landscape of love  
and the little churchyard there, with its sorrowing names,  
and the frighteningly silent abyss into which the others  
fall: again and again the two of us walk out together  
under the ancient trees, lie down again and again  
among the flowers, face to face with the sky."  
\--Again and Again, Rainer Maria Rilke 

**1967**

"Mo-om. Do I have to?"

He remembered the late August afternoon well. His mother had made him put on a clean shirt and denim shorts and had rotated his Blackhawks baseball cap so that the bill faced front.

"Yes, you have to," she said decisively. "It's only polite, Jack. How would you feel if you'd just moved into a new neighborhood? Wouldn't you want some of the other boys to come visit?"

"I guess." He was a little shy around new people. His mother said it was just a phase.

"You guess." She laughed. "Get on over there. I'll be right behind you with the pie." She wrapped one of her still-warm pumpkin pies in muslin and carried it to the door.

"Can I carry it?"

"No. I actually want it to _get_ there, Jack!" She shooed him out the back door, down the driveway, and across the lawn to their new neighbors' house.

"Go on, now. Ring the doorbell. My hands are full."

He pressed the doorbell and peered in through the screen door. The house was a mirror image of his own with stairs up to the second floor on the left rather than the right side and a living room with a big bay window off to the right. The living room itself was filled with boxes, crates, and furniture all clumped together in the middle of the room.

"Jonathan. Don't lean on the screen."

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, mom."

A few moments later, a tall -- his mom would call her 'stately' -- woman wearing an apron came to the door. "Yes?"

"Hi. I'm April O'Neill and this is my son, Jack. We live right next door. Welcome to the neighborhood!"

"Oh!" The woman opened the door and waved them inside. "I'm so pleased to meet you," she said, wiping her hands on her apron. "I'm Rachel. Rachel Lowry. And I'll bet that my son Matthew would love to meet Jack. You're about nine or ten, right?" She turned and called up the stairs. "Matthew! There is someone here to see you!" Mrs. Lowry smiled at him and said, "He'll be right down, Jack."

She and his mother went down the hall to the pink-and-black tiled kitchen. His house had yellow-and-black.

Chin on his fists, Jack sat on the bottom step and waited for Matthew. He was never very good with meeting people. His tongue either got snarled up or ran away with him and he said something stupid. When he heard footsteps on the stairs, he turned and stood.

Matthew looked like his mother. Tall, dark-haired, and kind of skinny. But where Mrs. Lowry had brown eyes, Matthew's were bright gray, like chips of lake ice.

"Uh, hi. I'm Jack."

"Hey," Matthew said, and put his hands in his pockets. "Everybody calls me Matt. You live around here?"

"Yeah. Next door." Jack fiddled nervously with a hang nail for a moment, then thrust his hands into his own pockets too. He crumpled the five dollar bill his dad had given him that morning for cutting the lawn. "You like fishing? You gotta bike?"

"Yeah. Lemmie just tell my mom." Matt jumped off the last step and went down the hall into the kitchen.

Jack waited while Matt's mom fussed through the standard mom-drill of who, what, where, when, and how, ending predictably with, "Oh, and make sure you take your jacket."

"Jeez," Matt said when he finally met up with Jack at the front door. Jack smiled in sympathy.

They hadn't even made it down the front steps before Mrs. Lowry called, "And Matt! I want you home for dinner at five. Mrs. O'Neill brought us a nice pumpkin pie for dessert!"

"Yes, mom." Matt rolled his eyes. "C'mon. Let's go before she changes her mind."

They got Matt's bike -- a real three-speed -- out of the garage and pumped up the tires in the cracked cement driveway.

"That's a great bike."

Matt shrugged. "My dad gave it to me." He didn't look too happy about it.

"You know, my mom makes the best pumpkin pies."

"Yeah?" Matt brushed the hair out of his eyes and looked up from the tire pump. "Cool. I love pumpkin pie."

Jack grinned and said, "Me too. We better get going if we're gonna get to the lake and back before five."

"Sure. Let's go."

They picked up the fishing poles from Jack's garage and then pedaled as fast as they could down the street and around the corner towards the lake. The late summer air was humid and thick with the lazy song of cicadas and bees.

**1968**

"C'mon, Jacky-boy! Don't be a wuss!"

"Screw you, Matt! I'm not a wuss." Jack crossed his arms and nervously looked over the edge of the crumbling cement lip of the reservoir. Far below, Matt calmly treaded water. "I'm just not _stupid_!"

"Stupid? What do you mean, stupid? I tried it, didn't I?"

"Yeah, I rest my case." Jack muttered under his breath. Matt was only a year older, but he was infinitely more daring. Or maybe a better word was 'nuts'.

"C'mon, Jack! It's only fourteen feet down. I measured it!"

And yeah, Matt _had_ measured it. He was like that. And yeah, he trusted Matt, no question. But the longer he stared, the farther and farther away the water seemed to be.

"If you want to be in the Air Force, you're gonna have to learn how to jump outta planes!"

That decided him. If he couldn't jump off a little cliff into deep water, how would he ever manage to jump out of a plane, thousands of feet up? Jack backed up a few feet, gathered his nerve, then ran as hard as he could.

His stomach rose up to his throat as he leapt into space. The water was shockingly cold but the size of the splash and Matt's fierce grin of triumph were reward enough.

"See! I _told_ you you could do it!"

**1969**

"What's the matter, Matt? Don't you like it?"

All the other kids had gone home. It was just him and his best friend sitting on the faded living room sofa amid the clutter of wrapping paper, birthday presents, and paper plates now sticky with cake and melted ice cream.

Matt slowly ran his finger along the eyepiece of the sleek telescope still packed in its wooden crate. "I guess."

"You guess? You've wanted one for, like, _ages_."

They'd spent weeks during the summer lying in front of the television watching news updates about the Apollo 11 mission. Matt's shelves had always been filed with science and astronomy books and they'd spent their entire allowance more than once on tickets to see 2001. But after the moon landing, Matt's every other word was 'planet' or 'nebula' or 'Alpha Centauri'.

And now, Matt's dad had gotten him a refracting telescope. Real professional with an equatorial mount and everything. Nothing like those cheesy department store models. Matt's dad always sent really cool presents. If Jack had gotten one for his birthday, he'd have been in complete heaven. But his mom said that they just didn't have that kind of money.

"I like it, okay? It's fine." His friend's voice was sharp.

After two years, Jack was no longer fazed by Matt's moods. With a little patience, a few well-placed questions, it would all come out in the end.

"It's fine. But?"

Matt pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around his shins. Unlike _his_ mom, for some reason, Mrs. Lowry never complained about feet on the couch.

"But, I really wish my dad was here. To help me set it up, and all."

Matt's mom and dad were divorced now. Jack had overheard his parents talking about it late one night when he was supposed to be asleep. His dad was shacked up with some hussy and Matt's mom got pitiful alimony. All the while they'd been married, Mr. Lowry had had a whole 'nother family in Michigan. He was rich and connected, but since Mrs. Lowry was a nobody, she got nothing.

Jack bit his lip. "Yeah? I'll bet my dad would help us set it up."

"You think?" His friend's voice was barely a whisper and his eyes looked like wet ice.

He put his hand on Matt's shoulder and said, "Sure. I know he will."

**1970**

Jack stepped carefully through the dried autumn leaves trying not to give his position away. The double-barreled zip gun thumped silently against his left hip and his pockets bulged with ammunition: acorns, pull-tops, and bottle caps. Matt crept along beside him and somewhere ahead of them in the trees, Tim McConnell and Casey Fitch waited, ready to defend their stronghold.

The territory in question was a huge pitted boulder left behind thousands of years back when the glaciers receded. It's sloping sides were always slick with moss and blotchy white fungus but there were lots of cracks and hand holds. From the top there was a view of the tree-tops and the entire lake. Supposedly it was off-limits but the chain link fence was rusted and pushed down in kid-sized places.

Though the late-afternoon forest was alive with bird-song and the skitter of small animals in the underbrush, Jack could feel layers of sounds that didn't belong. The ground-level scuffle of leaves that was the wrong cadence for field mice and lizards; the softer, mid-range rush of long flannel shirts against low bushes; the ear-level, rhythmic whisper of two sets of panting breaths.

Idiots. They were too far from the stronghold. They should have chosen a patrol position closer to the rock. Further more, they should have split up. Tim should have known better. Back before Matt came, he and Jack had usually been partners in this game.

Jack drew and loaded his zip-gun then turned to Matt and pointed to the two huge pines up ahead. They separated and ghosted through the trees, perfectly in synch, as always. Within minutes, they'd reached the pines.

Matt stepped around the tree first and a shout went up as he took Tim hostage. Jack's target, Casey, broke for it and ran.

"You're dead meat, Casey."

It was a simple matter to nail him in the back of the head with two fat acorns.

"Shit, Jack! That hurt!"

A few feet away, Tim wrenched out of Matt's grasp. "Damnit, you guys always win."

"Damn straight we do!" Jack pumped his fist.

Matt grinned at him and said, "Sweet!"

Casey smiled and rubbed the back of his head. "Jesus Christ. You guys are really good. Like commandos or something."

Tim didn't smile or say a word.

**1971**

The buzz from the overhead light seemed unusually loud. It was almost as irritating as the tap-tap-tap of Matt's hockey stick against the kitchen table. When his pencil point broke for the fourth time, tearing a hole in the pungent purple-and-white mimeographed sheet, Jack nearly screamed with frustration.

"Will you hurry _up_ already?"

"I'm trying, okay?" He despised algebra. Simultaneous equations were a devious torture dreamt up by trolls pretending to be math teachers.

"It's easy."

"And how would you know? It's not like you actually ever do any homework."

Matt was genius smart. But because he hardly ever went to class or did any of the assignments, he'd gotten held back a year. Now, they were both in eighth grade. Jack's mom said that Matt was lazy and didn't work up to his full potential. Mr. D'Amato, the algebra teacher, said he was disruptive. Jack figured that Matt was just pissed because his dad never came to visit.

"Yeah. Well. Whatever." Matt looked away for a second then said, "Look. If I show you how to solve it, _then_ we can go skate?"

Jack thrust the paper at his friend with relief. It wasn't like he wouldn't much rather be out on the ice, but unlike Matt, he wasn't a math whiz and could use every bit of class credit he could get. So he watched as his friend resharpened the pencil then patiently walked him through the final word problem, step-by-step. Ten minutes later, they'd finished. If D'Amato, could explain things half as well as Matt, he wouldn't be clinging tooth-and-nail to a B-.

"Fine, we're done. Let's _go_ already!"

"Alright, alright. Lemmie get my coat." Jack pulled on his coat and hat then clattered down the icy back stairs after Matt, laden with his stick, pads, and skates. "I don't see what the big rush is, anyway. It's not like the ice is going anywhere."

Jack's breath steamed in the cold air as he struggled to keep up with his friend's longer legs. Although Matt was tall -- but still skinny -- for his age, Jack was short for his. Every night he promised to god to stop swearing or to work harder at school -- anything! -- if he would just _grow_.

"Kevin McConnell said he'd show me some stick drills if I got there by four." His friend was practically running now and Jack could barely keep up on the slick sidewalk.

"It's after four, already."

"I _know_ that."

"Then slow down, willya? We're already late."

Matt finally relented and slowed down a bit when they turned off the walk and cut through the snowy woods.

"McConnell? The sophomore that plays forward for the Wild Cats?" Jack asked, when he'd caught his breath.

"Yeah."

"Tim's brother?"

"I said, yeah already."

He wanted to ask how Matt knew Kevin, how he'd convinced the guy to teach him, and why he had such a weird, goofy look on his face. But by then they'd reached the lake's edge and Matt was toeing off his boots, jamming on his skates, and darting out on the ice towards a group of older kids with his laces barely tied.

When Jack was finally dressed and had skated over to the group, it was clear that something other than stick drills was in progress.

"Go on! Get outta here, ya freak."

"But, you said--"

McConnell, a tall, broad-shouldered guy with blonde hair, shoved Matt. Jack's slighter friend tried to recover, but tripped over the stick that suddenly appeared behind his left skate. He hit the ice hard.

"--I didn't say nuthin'. Faggot."

Jack pushed through the loose circle of kids and held up his stick. "Hey! Get away from him!"

"Looky here, guys. A pint-sized he-ro." McConnell moved towards him but Jack brandished his stick and stood his ground, giving Matt time to scramble to his feet.

"You wanna make something of it?" Jack anchored his back skate and looked around warily, trying to keep a clear space at his back. The older -- much _bigger_ \-- kids wore bored, but hostile expressions. Shit. What the hell was going on and what had Matt gotten them into now?

"Fuck! Can you believe this? He wants to fight me!"

He didn't really _want_ to fight -- and get his face smashed in by this asshole loser and his upper-class hockey buds -- but for Matt, he would. Startled, he turned when Matt tugged on his sleeve.

"Jack, Forget it, okay? Let's just leave."

"Yeah, _Jacky-boy_, just leave, okay?" McConnell mimicked viciously. "Leave. And you won't get hurt."

Size-be-damned! He would have pounded the son-of-a-bitch except that Matt held him back.

"Jack. _Please_. I made a mistake, okay? Let's just leave."

"Okay, okay. Fine." Jack skated backwards trying to keep himself between Matt and the group of older kids.

"Bye, bye, little _fag_. Next time, I'll kick your sorry ass! You too, O'Neill!" McConnell called, but fortunately none of McConnell's friends seemed inclined to follow through on any of their shouted threats.

When they got back to the shore, Jack grabbed his friend's coat. "Matt, what the hell was that about?"

"Nothing. I made a mistake, is all." Matt tramped up the bank back to where they'd left their boots.

"A mistake?!"

"Yeah, a mistake, okay?" Matt turned back to look at him. His face was very pale and his voice sounded choked. Jack felt an odd pain in his chest. He'd never seen Matt look quite that way before.

"Okay," he said softly, but his friend had turned away.

Out across the lake, McConnell's group was breaking up, going back to their pick-up game. A hockey stick lay abandoned on the ice.

"Hey, Matt. You left your stick. Want me to go get it?"

"Nah. Forget it."

Surprised, Jack turned back to his friend. "What?"

"I said forget it. I'm done with that."

**1972**

And he'd meant it.

All Matt's hockey stuff -- skates, pads, spare sticks, and jerseys, anything that Jack didn't want or couldn't fit -- went into a box and were sold at the next church bazaar. And though they continued to swim in the lake on hot days and fish during the early spring and autumn mornings, as far as Jack knew, Matt never set foot on the ice again. He would occasionally sit in the stands and cheer on Jack when the hockey team played at home but only when Jack's mom or dad had decided to come, too.

That fall, instead of hockey, Matt joined the swim team and logged thousands of yards in the high school pool. Sometimes, Jack would sit pool-side and watch his friend at practice, long limbs slicing through the water, sleek and graceful as a porpoise. A few other guys on the team might win more races, but no one made it look as effortless.

One February evening, after Jack had finished practice and showered, he stopped by the pool to see if Matt was wanted a ride home. Mrs. Lowry had to work double shifts now because of some alimony thing. He also simply missed his friend. They'd both both made the varsity teams as freshmen and between practice, studies, and Jack's new -- and somewhat surprising -- social life, they'd had little time to really hang together since the term started. Matt had also spent increasing hours alone, up on the roof with his telescope or tinkering in his garage. Jack worried about him, but Matt always said he was just fine.

The pool arena was deserted except for Matt who stroked smoothly, lap-upon-lap, down the center lane. Jack waited at the end of the lane barefoot and holding his street shoes, until he caught Matt's eye on the next turn.

"Hey! What are you doing here?" Matt seemed pleased to see him. He took off his goggles and rested his arms on the edge of the pool. His hair was long, in defiance of the team code, and the single braid now reached past his shoulders. The coach grudgingly allowed it because he'd set two school records. Matt amazed him. No matter what he chose to do, he always did it well.

"My mom's coming to pick me up. You wanna ride home?"

"Sure! Just let me get my stuff." Matt vaulted out of the pool and playfully shook water all over him.

Jack watched as his friend headed to the locker room and smiled. His months of praying had paid off: over the past year, he'd grown eight inches -- thank _god_ \-- and they were now the same height.

Later though, as they walked down the dark, empty hallway towards the parking lot, Matt's playfulness seemed to have deserted him.

"So what's up, man? I haven't seen you in ages, it seems."

"Nothing." Matt shrugged. "Swimming. Class. Nothing, mostly." Jack could barely hear him over the echo of their footsteps.

They pushed through the double doors and walked out to the curb. The moonless sky above glittered with millions of stars. Jack pulled his hat down towards his collar and jammed on his gloves, yet still, the winter chill seeped in, numbing his fingers and ears.

"What about the dance this weekend? You going?"

"Are you?"

"Yeah." Jack smiled, already thinking ahead to his Friday night plans. "I asked Mary Ellen last week."

"Cool."

"So," Jack said, after a long while. "Are you going or not?"

"Nah. I'm not going." Matt shook his head.

"Well, why not?" He'd heard no few girls cooing over his friend in the hallways. The combination of Matt's lanky, muscular build, his long hair, and sleepy gray eyes attracted a lot of female attention.

The silence stretched so long that he wondered if Matt had heard him. And there was an odd tension, a waiting, like in the eye of a storm. Out on the street, a car slowed and turned into the parking lot. Jack was about to repeat his question when Matt finally spoke.

"Because, Jack," he said so quietly that Jack had to strain to hear him. "I don't like girls."

For a moment it seemed as if Matt had spoken in a foreign language. French or Spanish or something, where he could recognize the sounds, but had to work to make sense of them.

"What?" He slowly placed his hand on Matt's arm and then tugged, tried to get Matt to face him. "What did you say?" he asked carefully. His lips felt frozen and clumsy.

The car pulled up in front of them and the driver honked the horn. Through the glass, he could see his mother beckoning.

Matt paused with his hand on the door handle and finally looked at him directly. His eyes looked bright and hopeless, nearly transparent in the glare of the street lamp.

"I said, I don't like girls."

And while Jack stood, rooted in place, Matt opened the door and slipped into the back seat.

The car ride home was torture. His mom chattered on brightly about god-knows-what while Matt answered her questions with a kind of creepy, false cheer. All the while, Jack sat in the front seat, face turned to the window, struggling to put name to his inner chaos. By the time they crunched into the driveway and Matt dashed out of the car without a backwards glance, he'd mostly sorted them all out. Anger in every rich, red shade was foremost among them.

Long after dinner, after his homework was finished and after his parents had watched the Tonight Show in the den, it was a simple matter to gear up and slip out the back door.

Either the trellis in Matt's backyard was more rickety than he remembered or he'd gained a lot of weight along with the height. The climb was quick and easy -- a far cry from the first time he'd struggled up these same rails as a ten-year-old, ninety-pound-weakling. At the top, he swung his legs up over the gutter and walked along the slope of the roof to the flat spot just below Matt's bedroom window where he, his dad, and Matt had built an observation deck years ago.

As expected, he found Matt, thickly bundled against the cold and crouched over his camera and telescope. He didn't look up at Jack's approach.

"What's up tonight?" Jack asked looking up at the jeweled river of the Milky Way directly overhead.

"Beta Cygni." Matt said, while adjusting first the declination and right ascension and then finally the camera's aperture.

"Let me see."

Matt moved aside while Jack looked through the modified lens of the camera. Light years away, Alberio, the blue and gold double star, lay at the head of Cygnus the Swan, brilliant against the stark velvet midnight of space.

Jack squinted through the lens at the famous binary star. United by invisible gravitational bonds, the two stars circled one another, phantom arms outstretched, embracing, bound together until the end. He tried to imagine what it might be like to live on a world where the sun might never set. Where the colors of sunrise weren't only gold and yellow, but also painted the sky with every possible shade of blue.

"Damn, Matt. That is so cool."

"Yeah. Seriously."

"What kind of exposure you got set?"

"Four minutes. Doing effects shots tonight."

He stepped back while Matt fiddled with the settings, engaged the equatorial mount, and primed the camera. With a whir, the telescope began its slow tracking of the coordinates Matt had dialed in.

Then they sat on the milk crates on the deck in silence for a while, until Jack said, "So. How long have you known?"

"Dunno." His friend seemed to shrink deeper into his coat; he didn't pretend to misunderstand. "Seems like for all of my life."

"Then why not tell me before?"

Matt shrugged. "I guess I was afraid." His friend stood suddenly and went to stand at the railing.

"Of what?" Jack tried to stay calm, but his voice had an edge. "Do you think I'm that much of an asshole? Did you really think that it would matter to me?"

"I don't know. Does it?"

Even in the faint starlight, Jack could see the glitter of tears in his friend's eyes. He chose his next words with care. "It only matters to me, Matt, because _you_ matter."

"I thought--" Matt broke off and turned away, staring out across the backyard, across the fence and off towards the lake.

He rose and stepped carefully behind the telescope to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with his friend. "You thought what?" Jack persisted. "Tell me."

"I don't have that many friends, Jack," Matt said finally. His voice broke on the last word. "I didn't want to lose you too."

The anger slowly steamed off his skin in the frigid air. It left behind a pleasant warmth that centered in his chest and spread outward. He watched Matt's profile steadily until his friend finally turned to face him; his eyes were silvered by the faint light of the stars.

"Moron," Jack said, shaking his head. "Like that could ever happen."

When Matt smiled, the warmth in his chest flared and Jack impulsively reached out and hugged his friend close. Matt's arms tightened around him and they stood that way for a long time as the camera clicked and whirred, charting Alberio's entangled path across the sky.

**1973**

Jack hung around his friend's locker for a while but when the second bell rang, he couldn't wait any longer. Lockers flashed past as he raced down the corridor to the classroom. Moments later, he was in his seat, pens and pencils out, prepared to take his U.S. history final. His friend was nowhere to be seen.

Shit, Matt! Where the hell are you?

He was half-way through the first essay when the door opened and Matt floated in, flannel shirt mis-buttoned, long hair tangled. Stoned off his ass.

"So nice of you to join us, Mr. Lowry." Jenkins, the history teacher glared at Matt across the top of his half-moon glasses.

"Ever so nice to be here, Mr. Jenkins," Matt said, then collapsed into the empty seat in front of Jack.

"I'm of half a mind to not let you take this exam."

"Awww. And here I sharpened my pencils and everything."

The classroom tittered briefly and Jenkins' glare became a glower.

Matt knew that Jenkins was a hard ass, what the hell was he doing? Jack reached across the desk and grabbed a fistful of his friend's shirt. "Don't be an idiot, Matt. Shut up and take the damn test!"

When Matt turned to look at him, his face was very pale and his gray eyes were watery and bloodshot. "It matters that much to you, does it, Jack?"

Jack frowned at the odd note in his friend's voice. "Yes, you moron. Of course it does."

And it did. How did Matt expect to get into college, let alone get into the Air Force Academy if he kept screwing around, doing drugs, skipping swim-practice, skipping classes? They'd made a pact, years ago to apply together, to make it in together; flight training, mechanics, everything. Maybe even astronaut training one day. Didn't any of that matter to him anymore?

He looked up when Jenkins walked down the aisle and dropped a copy of the exam on Matt's desk.

"Listen to your friend, Mr. Lowry. Take the exam."

Matt looked at Jack a moment longer, then started in on his own test.

At the end of the exam period -- thankfully, the last exam of the day -- Jack cornered his friend in the hallway. He grabbed the front of Matt's shirt and pushed him against the lockers. Matt sagged bonelessly in his grasp and nearly slid to the floor.

"Matt! What the hell is the matter with you?"

"Get the fuck away from me, O'Neill." Matt tried to wrench himself away.

"Not until you tell me what's going on."

"Nothing," Matt said and managed to tear free. He lurched upright and brushed the hair from his face. "Nothing's going on."

"Bullshit."

His friend turned away abruptly. "Like you'd care anyway."

Jack felt like he'd been kicked in the gut. "That's it, Lowry. You're coming with me."

He took hold of Matt's forearm, yanking him off-balance in the process, then dragged him down the hallway. Matt struggled, but the late-nights and partying had taken their toll: he was thinner than Jack, with a lot less muscle.

Jack ignored the gasps and heckling from the other students they passed in the hall, just as he ignored Matt's non-stop snarls and curses. Once outside the double-doors, he paused in the mild June sunlight.

"Did you drive here?"

Matt nodded. He was sullen but had finally stopped fighting.

Jack held out his hand. "Give me the keys."

Once they'd located the car, he unlocked the door, pushed his friend into the passenger's seat then got behind the wheel.

"I don't want to go home," Matt said suddenly.

"So?" Jack started the car and pulled out of the lot. "Who asked you?"

They drove in silence.

He had no intention of taking Matt home to what he suspected was the scene of the crime. Instead, he turned at the light and drove east, towards the edge of town. Once, it had been forest-land, but over the past few years, more and more trees had been cut down, spawning swanky executive sub-divisions with names like 'Oakcrest' and 'Fairlawn'. There had even been town meetings and protests over draining the lake to make way for Phases III and IV.

Years ago, they would have had to park on a side street and walk but now, there was a private service road that ran nearly to the lake itself. It was a simple matter to ignore the 'Keep Out' sign, unlatch the rusty orange gate, and drive through.

After about a quarter of a mile, Jack turned off the rutted dirt track and parked in a concealed, shady area. He got out, went around to the passenger side and pulled Matt out of the car.

He grabbed Matt's arm again. "Let's go." Then he started down the heavily wooded path towards the lake.

Matt tried to jerk away. "Jack --"

Jack jerked him back. "Shut up and start walking."

Ten minutes later, they'd reached the lakeshore. The water was calm, quietly lapping against the sheltered section of beach. Jack pushed Matt down to sit on one of the larger boulders on the shore. It seemed like forever since they'd last fished together from these very rocks.

"Now," Jack said, planting himself directly in front of his friend. "Are you going to tell me what the fuck is going on? Or am I going to have to beat it out of you?"

Matt pulled his knees to his chest and looked out across the water. A slight breeze rustled the leaves of the fire oak overhead casting dancing shadows on his friend's pale, thin face.

"You've been ditching school, skipping practice, toking your fucking _brains_ out. You're skinny as a stick, Matt. Are you _trying_ to flunk out? Don't you want to go to college? To the Air Force Academy?"

"What does it matter, Jack," Matt said finally. His voice sounded dull, defeated. "The Air Force Academy won't let me in anyway. I'm a faggot, remember?"

"You're not a 'faggot', Matt. You're gay."

"Same difference. At least according to them," Matt said. "And to my father."

"Shit." Dismayed, Jack rocked back on his heels.

"Yeah. Shit." Matt sounded defeated. "So much for my nomination to the Academy from any of our good Congressmen."

"Shit," Jack said again, and climbed up on the rock to sit beside Matt. "How'd he find out."

"My _mom_, man. My friggin' mom." Matt shook his head. "Last week, she found some pictures I had. And then called my goddamn _father_ because she couldn't fucking _cope_."

"Damnit, Matt! I told you not to keep that stuff in the house."

Matt whirled to face him. "Fuck you, O'Neill! I'm tired of hiding who I am. And what I want."

"And you want _those_ guys?" Jack had looked through Matt's stash of pictures before. Some were okay, some of the guys were pretty well hung, but most of them just looked ridiculous. "You want to be fucked by one of those ugly, oiled-up guys in those stupid leather outfits? Tied up and fucked?" It made his stomach hurt to think of his best friend in an alley somewhere with one of those sleazy assholes.

"No, Jack." Matt whirled to face him. "I want to be fucked by _you_." Seeming shocked at his own words, he hurriedly turned away and started to slip off the rock to leave.

"Matt! Wait."

Jack closed his hand over Matt's wrist and held him in place. Matt stared down at his hands but didn't try to move away. Jack looked his friend for a long time, considering Matt's declaration, knowing it for truth.

He wasn't really surprised. He'd suspected -- no, he'd known -- for a while but had ignored it, pretended it away, to avoid examining his own tangled desires too closely. Girls were so much easier to want; the world was set up for guys to want girls, not other guys. "Play the game by its rules, Jack", his father was fond of saying. But what if you violated the rules just by being who you were?

Even so, something else bothered him about Matt's admission. Something that raised a prickle on the back of his neck, warning him that there was dangerous territory ahead. After all, Matt's father had known for almost a week.

"Why now," he asked, carefully feeling his way along.

Matt looked up suddenly. "What?"

"You've felt this way for a long time, Matt. Why tell me now?"

Bullseye.

Matt's pupils contracted to pin-points and he pulled away, scrambling down off the boulder. Jack was faster and hip-checked him back against the rock.

"Why now, Matt?" he demanded, pinning Matt to the rock with his body. "Why _now_? Look at me, dammit!"

His friend let loose with a right cross and knee to the nuts. Jack twisted away, narrowly missing the knee but the fist connected, snapping his head back.

"Goddamn you, Lowry!"

Jack tackled Matt and his greater weight drove them both to the rocky ground. Fighting Matt was like wrestling an enraged, six-foot python. He writhed, kicked, spat, shouted curses but Jack held on grimly, straining for the upper hand. He finally laid Matt out with an elbow chuck to the solar-plexus. Jack rolled his friend beneath him, sat across his hips, and pinned his arms to the ground.

"Tell me, Matt" he said, panting hard. "Tell me. Why. Now?"

Matt stared up at him a moment then laughed. Hysterically. His nose was bloody, his chin was scraped, he could barely catch his breath and yet he was laughing.

"Because, Jacky-boy," he said, between gasps and eerie, hair-raising giggles. "Freedom is just another name for nothing left to lose."

"What?" Jack frowned. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Six months, Jack," Matt said. "Six months. I've got cancer, and they've given me six months to live."

Jack was suddenly breathless and shivering.

"So now you know, Jack," his friend was saying. "Now you know." But it was as if Matt were speaking from very far away.

Somehow, he managed to roll to his feet and give his friend a hand up. He was horrified. At himself, at Matt; he'd fought a sick man, his best friend. Matt brushed himself off, wiped the blood from his face, and picked leaves and twigs from his hair. His nonchalance was maddening.

"No questions, Jack?" Matt asked, eyes wide with feigned surprise. "Since you look too stunned to ask -- I was at first -- I'll tell you what you want to know." He limped over to the boulder and leaned against it. Jack ached to help him, but despite his casual tone, Matt's posture was tense and forbidding.

At first, Matt said, it was just a cold that he couldn't shake. Chills, night sweats, and fevers. Eventually, though, his pool times had gotten too crappy to ignore. But there hadn't been much money then gso that by the time he'd seen a doctor, had been run through test after expensive test, the cancer had spread; prognosis poor. He went to chemo in the morning, twice a week, a process that mysteriously spared his hair, but left him puking his guts out. A joint or two before or after seemed to help.

"But that's not what you really care about, is it?" Matt said. "What you _really_ want to know is when and why. When did I find out and why didn't I tell you." His friend took a deep breath. "Well, Jack, I've known since March. And I didn't tell you because--," here Matt paused and looked away; his long hair shielded his face. "--Because I didn't want your pity."

Restless with emotion, Jack moved to the rock and leaned beside his friend. "Oh my god, Matt. I'm so sorry."

"You're sorry? Imagine how I feel."

To know that your life was over before you could really start it, all your plans and dreams, your private hopes erased. Jack shook his head. "I can't. I can't imagine."

"At least you're honest," Matt said. He crossed his arms and looked out over the water. "I'm so damn sick of everybody's sympathy I could puke. My parents, my grandparents, everybody. Even my step mom -- my _step_ mom -- sent me a stupid card: 'Thinking of You' and 'Get Well Soon'. As if they really cared. As if I could give a fuck. As if it will make any difference in the end."

Jack's body shook with the need to do or say something, anything. He hadn't even known to send a stupid card.

"Do you know that my parents weren't even going to _tell_ me? They weren't going to tell me my chances. Just let me think it wasn't serious." His friend snorted and shook his head. "Until I up and died one day, I guess."

He reached towards his friend but Matt turned away.

"I--I cried a lot when I first found out, you know?" Matt continued. "Thinking about all the stuff I might -- will -- miss. College. _Sex_." This time, Matt's laugh was brittle. "And for a while, everybody was all hopeful: 'We're all praying for you, Matt', 'Scientists make advances all the time, Matt'. But then the doctors said 'Six Months, Matt', and you know what?"

Jack shook his head. "No," he whispered.

"No matter what they say or don't say, Jack, no matter what plans I've made or dreams I have, or how much I cry, it won't make any difference. I'm already dead and it won't make any difference."

"Doctors don't know everything, Matt. And you're not dead." Jack shifted closer and placed his hands on his friend's shoulders; his bones were sharp beneath the flannel. How could he have missed all the signs -- the exhaustion, the weight loss, the pain? How could he have abandoned his best friend to face this alone, too distracted, wrapped up in his own success to notice. "You're not dead," he repeated, if only to reassure himself.

"No?" Matt laughed softly but wouldn't meet his eyes. "Maybe not. Not yet. But I am done crying over it, Jack," Matt said.

Jack's eyes stung. "Maybe you are, Matt, but I'm not." He shook his head and slipped his arms around his friend. "Not yet."

But when Matt finally hugged him back, when Jack felt the leanness and slight tremor, felt the brittleness of his best friend's hair against his cheek, he found that his tears stubbornly refused to fall.

*

At 4:43 am, the sun had not yet fully risen although the sky was tinted pink and gold. The area was deserted: it was still too early for the school crowd to be up and there wasn't enough time between dawn and the start of the workday for working people to be out fishing. Fog blanketed the forest and threads of mist clung to the surface of the lake. The fish weren't biting but Jack didn't mind. Instead, fishing pole in hand, he sat on the rocks at water's edge and watched Matt perform his weekday ritual.

For the past six weeks, as often as he could manage, Matt was in the water at dawn. On good days, the walk to the lake would take minutes and Matt would be out of his clothes and in the water before Jack could assemble his pole and bait the hook. Other times, the sun would have already crested the trees by the time they made it to the shore. Once there, Jack would slide into the water too, awkwardly keeping pace with Matt's dogged crawl, just in case. And twice, he'd helped his friend to the shore only to hold him steady while he sat on the rocks and dangled his feet in the water. Today though, it was as if the cancer and the chemo had never been.

While the sky slowly lightened, Jack watched Matt's progress across the lake. He was beautiful. His every stroke was perfect, easy and nearly soundless in the early morning quiet. Sometimes the mist would drift completely over Matt and Jack would track him by the hushed cadence of his limbs. Then, the tendrils would spiral away to reveal the rhythmic flash of pale skin and sparkling water. It seemed like something out of a dream.

But it wasn't. It was all too real and undeniable: the cells gone wild in Matt's body, the drugs, legal and otherwise, their side effects. His friend's increasing thinness, his stubborn refusal to rest when he should have been in bed rather than struggling through a workout. And of course, the heat in the pit of Jack's stomach, the heaviness between his thighs when Matt would rise from the water naked and towel himself dry in the mild morning sunlight.

It was so much less complicated back when he'd allowed his confusion to lie unexamined. When he'd shrugged off the warm, shivery feelings he got while lying on the rooftop next to Matt, their arms or legs brushing, watching the stars overhead. When Matt smiled at him in a certain way. Back when he'd explained away the vivid dreams of Matt's hands on his body, of his mouth on his friend's skin, as the product of overactive hormones brought on by Mary Ellen's endless teasing.

"Be honest with _yourself_, Jack, if no one else," his mother had chided him after some long-ago transgression involving a small lie and a lot of indignant self-justification. But she had never warned him that honesty and insight could be so difficult, so risky.

The mist had thickened closer to shore hiding Matt, the water, and the fishing line but Jack could hear his friend's approach when he slowed, then splashed into the shallows. He grabbed a towel and threw it in the direction of the last splash just as Matt emerged from the fog. The sun had finally risen above the trees warming the haze to a soft, mysterious glow.

"Good shot," Matt said, stepping across the rocks and clutching the towel to his chest.

"I try."

In response, his friend just smiled _that_ smile and Jack felt shivery inside again.

"Jack?" Matt paused as he dried his hair.

"Yeah?"

"You've got the weirdest expression on your face."

Jack reeled in his line and recast trying to ignore the way the weak sunlight scattered over his friend's naked limbs, the way it conspired with the leafy shadows to transmute his silver eyes into deep, smoky gold. "I do?"

Matt frowned then slowly, almost deliberately, ran the towel over his chest and down each of his legs. When Matt propped his foot on the rock to dry his ankle, Jack stubbornly refused to notice the gradual lengthening of his friend's dick against his thigh.

"Yeah," Matt said finally. "You do."

Jack's throat felt dry. "Like, what kind of expression?"

His friend wrapped the towel around his waist and sat beside him on the rock. Their shoulders touched.

"I dunno." Matt shrugged and the motion set off odd shock waves in Jack's stomach and his cut-offs felt a size too small. "Like you're happy about something. Or you've got a secret." Still wearing that smile, his friend glanced over at him and said, "Or maybe both?"

Jack gave up on fishing. He wedged his pole in a crack between the rocks then looked out over the water. The lake front was still empty but within the next two hours it would be filled with rowdy kids on summer vacation.

He could feel Matt watching him, waiting. Until this moment, he had never fully appreciated his friend's struggle to first discover, then confess his identity. And now, although he'd rehearsed the conversation a million times in his head, he couldn't seem to voice the words. His tongue was tangled and his face felt hot and numb. After several false starts, Jack finally gave up on explaining and simply reached out instead. Matt's hand was cool.

His friend's eyes widened. "I don't want your pity, Jack."

"No, not pity--" Jack shook his head. "Didn't you ever wonder, Matt," he began again. "--Didn't you ever wonder if people could, you know, go _both_ ways?"

Matt's fingers suddenly tightened around his. "And you're saying that you do?"

It was so difficult to say it aloud. "Yeah," Jack said finally. "I guess am."

"No shit." Matt sounded a little breathless.

Jack nodded and stroked his thumb across his friend's palm. "No shit."

"But why now, Jack?" Matt echoed his own earlier words back to him. His wary-yet-hopeful tone made Jack's heart ache. "Why tell me now?"

How could he say: Because I didn't want to know before. Because I'm so scared that you're going to die. Because time's running out and we may never get the chance again?

"Because--" Jack started, but then his throat swelled shut. He closed his eyes and hot tears slipped down his cheeks. Mortified, he bit his lip.

"Never mind," his friend said quietly. "I think I can guess why."

"Shit," Jack said and wiped his cheeks with the back of his free hand. "I thought I had what I wanted to say all planned out."

"Not that easy, is it?" Matt laughed gently, but Jack didn't really mind.

"Nah, ya think?"

Matt laughed again then shifted closer on the rock so that their bare arms and legs touched. The quivering in Jack's stomach gave way to a deep, pulsing heat. And when he slanted a glance at Matt, his friend was looking at their clasped hands and grinning like he'd just won the 200 yard freestyle.

"You want to hear something funny?"

"Sure," Jack said hoarsely. "What?" Their hands were almost the same size, strong, with the same broad palms and long fingers. So different than Mary Ellen's small hands. Different and yet somehow just as easy and natural to hold.

"After they told me 'six months', I pretty much figured I'd die a virgin," Matt said. "Hell, I'm seventeen and I've never even kissed anybody before."

Jack could barely breathe. The idea of doing any of the things with Matt that he'd dreamt of -- dreams that left his sheets and pajamas damp and sticky in the mornings -- made Jack's heart pound and a thrilling pulse throb in the pit of his stomach.

"But now," Matt was saying, "I'm figuring that maybe I stand a chance. Of at least _kissing_ somebody, you know?"

"Yeah, I know," Jack said, turning to face his friend. Kissing was definitely something he understood. He framed Matt's sun-browned face with his hands and brushed his thumbs over the high, sharp cheek bones. His friend's eyes were dark and his lips were moist and slightly parted. "I know," he said again and it was a surprisingly simple matter to lean forward and allow their lips to touch.

Matt's lips were firm and smooth against his, familiar somehow, as if he had always known their shape and feel. When Matt wound his arms around him, Jack pulled him closer and deepened the kiss, fascinated by the similarities, the differences between this, and the other kisses he'd shared with past girlfriends. The prickle of his friend's whiskers, the flex of hard muscle under his hands was an unexpected, pleasing contrast to the slow, sexy glide of their lips and tongues.

"God, Jack," Matt said when they broke apart at last. "That was-- where the hell did you learn to do _that_?"

"Oh, here and there." Jack smiled, pleased by his friend's reaction. _His_ first kiss had been an awkward and uncertain. Their noses had bumped, he hadn't known what to do with his hands, and he'd ended up licking her ear when she turned her head suddenly. "You liked?"

"Hmm." His friend frowned. "Might need more research. Just to be sure."

Jack's smile became an open grin. "Not here, though." He reluctantly untangled himself from Matt's embrace and slipped off the rock. "C'mon, let's go."

Minutes later, Matt was clothed and they set off through the trees, hand-in-hand, to the secluded spot they'd first discovered years ago. Since Phase II had begun, it was no longer quite as isolated, but in the early mornings or after midnight, they could be still assured some privacy.

At the base of the old, lightning-struck oak, they spread out Jack's striped fishing blanket and then sat by side, awkwardly in silence. Jack nervously picked at an unraveling thread.

"Jack?" Matt sounded worried.

"Yeah?" He gripped his friend's hand tightly.

"Are we going to-- do you still want to, you know--?"

Jack swallowed hard. Kissing was one thing; he _knew_ about kissing. This was something else entirely. "Yeah, but--"

"But what?"

"But, I'm not sure exactly--," his cheeks felt hot, "--exactly what to _do_."

His friend laughed suddenly. "You mean that you and Mary Ellen never--?"

"No." Jack glared at his friend. "We never. She always breaks up with me just before. Besides--"

"--This is different, right?" Matt said softly and moved closer.

"Right," he said. Matt's breath ghosted across Jack's collarbone and one hand brushed his knee then slipped up his thigh.

Jack smiled and relaxed all at once. Then again, maybe not so different after all.

*

Since the bedroom was empty, Jack left his pack and sleeping bag by the bed, climbed through the window and stepped out onto the roof. It was cold. The long, bright summer had mellowed into autumn gold, and finally yielded to early December ice; winter had caught up with them at last.

As expected, he found his friend huddled on a crate beside his telescope and camera, collar up and hat pulled down over his ears.

"Matt," he said and sat down on the second crate next to his friend. "You shouldn't be out here. It's too damn cold."

"Best time to catch the summer constellations." Matt had removed his gloves and was fumbling with the mount. His fingers were thin and pale, like raw bone.

"And what the hell is wrong with watching summer constellations during the summer?"

Matt smiled. "Nothing, except I wanted to see Alberio again."

"Alberio." For a moment, the Jack couldn't swallow past the ache in his throat. "Here," he said finally. "Put your gloves back on and read off the coordinates. I'll dial them in."

Matt did as he asked and within moments the double star was in view. Jack moved back to let his friend see. He tried not to notice how Matt's hands shook.

"No pictures tonight?" he asked.

"Nah, I'm out of film," Matt said and squinted through the eye piece. "Just look at that. Isn't it the most amazing sight?"

Jack ignored the glittering river of stars overhead and put his arms around his friend instead. The bulky coat and sweater couldn't disguise Matt's frailness. "Yeah, it is."

Matt laughed softly and covered Jack's gloved hands with his own. "I'm glad you're here, Jack," he said. "I know you're busy with applications and everything."

"I'm never too busy for you." He rested his cheek against the rough wool of Matt's coat and closed his eyes. "Besides, I sent in my last application yesterday."

"Heard from the Academy yet?"

"Nope. End of the month."

"You'll get appointed, Jack. I know it."

"Maybe." He smiled at his friend's faith. "But I'm not the science whiz-kid you are."

Matt snorted. "No, you just won the state-wide history prize instead."

"Whatever," Jack said, but grinned anyway.

"Yeah, whatever," Matt said, then fell silent for a moment. "I wish that I..." His voice trailed off.

"You wish what?"

Jack could feel his friend shake his head. "Nothing," Matt said softly. "Never mind." And they sat for a while as Matt watched the stars and Jack silently counted the labored heartbeats beneath his ear.

"It won't be long now, I don't think," his friend said suddenly.

Jack's breath caught painfully.

"Shut up, Matt," he whispered. The scratchy fabric caught his tears before they could fall. "Just, shut up."

Matt turned in his embrace and ran the tips of his fingers along Jack's cheek. Jack blinked hard then kissed him. Matt's lips were thin and chapped but they parted willingly when Jack's tongue dipped inside. Lost in the warmth and softness, for a long moment, he was able to pretend: the summer sun was just rising, warming his face; Matt's body was lean but still strong under his hands; his friend was tracing a slippery path along his inner thigh with his tongue. But then his vision cleared. Despite the heavy clothes, Matt was shivering. His face was gaunt.

"Come on," Jack said. "It's after two and it's really too cold to be out. Let's go in."

Matt hugged him tightly for a moment then stood. "Okay."

They packed and stored the telescope then raised the window and climbed back into the bedroom. Matt's knees buckled but Jack caught him before he could fall and settled him on the end of the bed.

"Thanks, man. I just tripped."

Jack wasn't fooled. He batted away Matt's hands and helped his friend out of his coat and boots. Matt pulled the knit hat off reluctantly. The last round of chemo had taken his hair along with most of his strength. The drugs had left behind about an inch of dark, inexplicably curly hair and an odd translucence to his skin.

While Jack locked the bedroom door, Matt climbed across the bed and sat back against the head board. "You gonna stay over tonight?" Matt asked.

"Nah," he said. "Ran outta closet space. Figured I'd drop some stuff off over here and then go home."

"Wise ass."

Jack shed his own coat and boots and unrolled his decoy sleeping bag beside the bed in front of the door. In the past few months, they'd become skilled at deception and misdirection.

"And you love it," Jack said, and started pulling off his sweater and jeans. "Now get under the covers, you idiot. I'll get the lights."

Matt had stripped down to his underwear and pulled up the blankets by the time Jack settled into bed beside him. It was dark except for the oozy glow of the lava lamp and the acid purple of Matt's black light. The fluorescent rock posters and the to-scale replica of the Milky Way they'd painted on the ceiling one summer shimmered in the near darkness. Directly overhead, a small neon-orange sticker on one arm of the spiral indicated: 'You are here'.

Jack rolled to his side so that he and Matt were nearly nose-to-nose, sharing the pillow. The dark sheets and pillowcase swallowed the light, but his friend's pale skin had taken on an other-worldly sheen and his eyes gleamed violet.

"You tired?"

"No." Matt shook his head, clearly stifling a yawn. "Horny, though."

"Big surprise." Jack smiled and laced their fingers together. Most likely, Matt was engaging in some wishful thinking. Hoping that for once, his body wouldn't betray him, that it would live up to his expectations. Horny or not, Jack couldn't have cared less. That his best friend -- his lover -- was alive and beside him was more than enough. Would always be enough.

In the privacy of his mind, he often thought of Matt that way, as a lover. 'Boyfriend' sounded stupid, trivial. 'Lover' had the sound of the archaic and illicit to it, like a knight's forbidden passion for the pledged lady of his liege. A lover was someone you weren't supposed to want, but who you loved anyway, despite reason or caution.

"What about you?" Matt moved closer so that their lips brushed lightly as he spoke.

"Horny?" He slowly traced Matt's lips with the tip of his tongue. "For you, always."

"Then show me," his lover whispered.

So Jack did. First with his hands, as he stripped them both and reveled in the smoothness of Matt's bare skin against his finger tips. Next, with his lips and tongue when he coaxed forth giggles as he lapped at too-prominent ribs, soft moans when he traced the outer edge of an ear, and breathless sighs when he licked his lover's slowly hardening cock. And finally, with the gentle, careful upward press of his lightly sweating body, full-length against Matt's above him.

"C'mon, Jack," Matt said, moving more purposefully against him. "You don't have to be so careful. I won't break, man."

Jack found it suddenly hard to swallow; his vision was blurred. "No, Matt," he said thickly. "But I might."

Matt paused, his eyes were wet. "Don't, Jack," he said. Tears slid down the side of his nose and dripped on Jack's throat. "Just don't."

Much, much later -- long after they'd doused all the lights and lay tangled together, pretending to sleep, when the sky had grown light enough to see the frost crawling up the window panes -- Matt held him while he cried.

'Don't leave me', he wanted to say. 'Don't let go'. Instead, he whispered, "I love you, Matt."

By then, the room was light enough that he could see his lover's answering smile.

**1974**

The curtains were tied back so that the late morning sunlight streamed through the windows; it lay in obscenely bright patches on the bedspread. Jack settled on the bed and leaned back against the head board, one foot on the floor and the other outstretched, resting against the heavy crate that housed the telescope. The sun was warm on his thigh. In full daylight, the posters seemed drab and faded and except for the orange sticker, the stars overhead were nearly invisible. The lava lamp was unplugged.

From the living room, the sound of voices and the occasional chime of the door bell filtered up through the floor boards. The scent of pot-luck and flowers drifted through the half-open bedroom door.

Even years later, that funereal mix of aromas would make him nauseous.

After sitting stiffly in the living room for a half hour, watching the latest arrivals in their somber clothes, listening to their stilted words of sympathy, Jack had escaped up the stairs to the bedroom.

For a while, he'd restlessly wandered the small room, picking up books, rifling through loose papers and notebooks in the drawers, running his fingers over trophies and ribbons from swim meets and science fairs, touching curled-edge photos on the bulletin board. Searching for something, but he wasn't exactly sure what. The room seemed so empty and bright.

That morning, standing before the open grave, the priest had said that Matt was in heaven now. Looking down at them, watching and guarding those he'd left behind. That god had loved him so much that he needed Matt with him right away. Couldn't wait.

On another bright future morning, a different minister would recite the same false words over the body of his son, Charlie. Over Daniel's empty coffin. They wouldn't comfort him then, either.

Standing beside his parents, wearing a new suit and tie that chafed, Jack had stared at the coffin and wondered: would the priest have said those words had he known? Had he known that the love he and Matt shared had crossed the line into sin. Not that Matt had believed in god or sin or a hereafter anyway. "If there's a hell, Jack, and all fags go to hell," he'd said. "At least I'll be able to get a date when I'm dead!"

It should have been gray, that day. Cloudy. The clear sky and fresh white snow seemed an insult, disrespectful somehow.

Eventually, he'd settled heavily on the narrow twin bed holding the pillow in his arms. When he closed his eyes tightly and pressed it against his face he thought he could catch Matt's scent in the fabric.

Someone, maybe Mr. Lowry, had packed up the telescope and set the crate on the bed. Matt's leather camera bag had been placed beside it. Jack was about to unlatch the crate when the door creaked open.

"Jack?" Mary Ellen leaned into the room. "You okay?"

'No', he wanted to scream. 'He's gone and never coming back.' But what else could he say except for, "Yeah, I'm okay."

"Are you sure?" she persisted.

"I'm fine," he repeated more forcefully. "Really." And he could probably convince everyone of that. Except for Matt, who had known his voice so well, who would have detected the tears that he couldn't shed, that would never stop if he allowed them to fall. Tears that might lead to questions that he couldn't answer. That he would never be able to answer.

'Just go _away_,' he urged her silently. But instead of leaving, she sat down on the bed -- _their_ bed -- and took his hand. It felt odd, wrong; too small, too soft. Even at the very end, when Matt lay so still against the white hospital sheets, when the cancer had nearly burned him to bare bone, his hand matched Jack's for length and breadth.

"I'm sorry, Jack. I know you guys were real close and all."

He shook his head but stayed silent. She didn't know anything, she couldn't understand. No one did, no one could.

Months ago, when he and Matt had first become lovers, in a rare moment of honesty they'd talked about this moment, about the possibility of this moment. In the clear, hushed gold of dawn, they'd sat together beneath their tree and Jack had listened while Matt imagined his own funeral. The flowers and music, the hypocritical eulogies and tears. They'd talked about how Jack would behave, what he would say to protect their secret. Matt had been so worried about Jack's reputation, his future Academy appointment. Nevertheless, when the midnight phone call came, only a few hours after he'd left -- had been forced to leave -- the hospital, the sudden pain had left him lightheaded and weak. The phone had slipped from his hand and he might have fallen to his knees if his father hadn't caught his arm.

"Easy, son," his father had said, and hugged him close. "It'll be okay. It'll be okay." Nonsense syllables. Trite words that failed to comfort.

Never again would he lie so completely, in every word and action, as he had in the weeks that followed Matt's death. Pretending that his heart wasn't mangled and empty, that his body didn't burn with Matt's absence. That he wasn't slowly bleeding to death from a wound that would never heal. It would be cold comfort to one day learn that the mourning of an unacknowledged beloved was eclipsed only by the devastation of mourning one's child. To know that one distant morning, he would sit in another too bright, silent room, gun in hand, and wonder if he was strong enough to bear the pain.

"Oh, Jack!"

Startled, he and Mary Ellen looked up when Mrs. Lowry entered the room.

"There you are. I was looking for you."

A significant look passed between the two women and Mary Ellen stood suddenly.

"I'll see you downstairs, Jack," she said, and gave his hand a final squeeze. "Remember, I'm here for you, okay? Any time. If you need anything." Her perfume made his nose itch when she leaned down and kissed his cheek.

"Thanks," Jack said, also rising to his feet.

He didn't mean it then, but he would. Eventually.

The further he got from the bitter numbness of ground zero, the more he would appreciate her patient silences and the bright distraction of her company. Come June, he would even take her to the senior prom. During the slow songs, he would hold her close and focus on the rustle of silk and the scent of roses and hairspray. And that night, when she finally allowed him to make love to her, when he closed his eyes and buried himself in her softness, only once would he imagine that the silken skin beneath his hands covered long, lean swimmer's muscles, that his partner's smooth cheeks were prickly with beard-shadow against his lips, and that his fingers slid over a solid, thick length rather than slick folds.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Lowry," Jack said. "I didn't realize you were looking for me."

"That's okay, Jack. I thought you might be up here." She gently patted his shoulder; her smile was watery. She looked thinner and more tired with each passing year. Now, her hair was shot with gray and her brown eyes were bloodshot. Rachel Lowry looked like he felt.

"There are a few things that Matt wants--" she began, then turned away to dash sudden tears from the corner of her eyes. Jack's eyes itched sympathetically. "--That Matt wanted you to have." She moved to the rumpled bed and placed her hands flat on the crate.

"I remember how much he used to love the stars," she continued, looking up at the invisible Milky Way above their heads.

One day, he would help his son paint a similar mural on his bedroom ceiling. The 'you are here' sticker would be neon-green though.

When Mrs. Lowry closed her eyes, the errant tears spilled at last. "Always up late, out on the roof with his camera, telescope, and textbooks. Or out in the garage. He wanted to be an astronomer, to study the stars and maybe be an astronaut one day. Did he tell you?" Her eyes were bright with pain when she turned to look at him. Then she shook her head. "Of course, of course you knew. Of course he told you. You were always there right beside him, weren't you, Jack? Until the sun rose."

Jack knew his own cheeks were wet but he felt frozen in place. He'd never thought of Mrs. Lowry as old, but right now, as she stood hunched over the crate, with one hand pressed to her stomach, she seemed ancient.

One day, he would feel as ancient, too.

"But that's why, Jack," she was saying. "That's why he wanted you to have the telescope and his cameras. Besides, I don't think I could bear to keep them--" she stopped, then inhaled deeply. "Mr. Lowry will help you take everything back to your house."

"Thanks, Mrs. Lowry. But that's okay," Jack said, having finally found his voice. "My dad will help me."

"Okay, okay. Right." Mrs. Lowry straightened and wiped her cheeks with a crumpled linen handkerchief.

For a long moment, they stood side-by-side not speaking. Then Jack fingered the latch on the crate and opened the lid. When he stroked his hands across the smooth, gleaming surfaces of the telescope, he imagined that it was warm to his touch.

Matt's mom turned away abruptly, her breath catching on a sob. She walked quickly to the door, heels clicking sharply on the hardwood.

"Oh, Jack--"

He turned towards Mrs. Lowry and stared dumbly at her outstretched hand. It was shaking.

"--I'll need your key now. Okay?"

Fresh tears wet his cheeks. "Sure," he said, and fumbled in his breast pocket. The edges of the key seemed unaccountably sharp.

She'd given him the key back when he'd first learned of Matt's illness. "So you don't have to keep sneaking up that rickety old trellis," she had said. "So you can come over whenever Matt--needs some company."

When he placed it in her thin, papery hand, the room seemed to ripple and waver at the edges. As if the foundations of his world had shifted irrevocably.

"And congratulations on your appointment, Jack," Mrs. Lowry was saying, her voice thick with tears. "I know that Matt would have been so happy."

She fled the room then, but Jack stayed a little longer.

He circled the room again and again, opening cabinets and drawers, touching every surface, memorizing the space with each of his senses.

At the very bottom of a drawer in Matt's desk he found the photos.

A carnival had come to town late that summer so he and Matt had pooled their quarters and gone. Between the two of them, they'd won two stuffed bears, a parrot, and a huge banana. Jack had traded their winnings for food coupons and they'd bought cotton candy and pretzels and hot dogs at every stand and made themselves sticky and sick. Afterwards, they'd crammed themselves into the tiny seats on the thrill rides and dutifully screamed on all the turns. It was nearing midnight when they'd stumbled upon the photo booth hidden behind the carousel and the wax museum.

The idea had seized them both simultaneously and he and Matt had sprinted to the booth, crammed inside, and pumped quarters into the coin slot.

"Let's make faces!" Matt had said. And in a fit of silliness, they had mugged outrageously for the camera, making a crazy totem pole of two with crossed eyes and lolling tongues. But then, on the last two of their ten-shots-for-a-dollar, the mood had shifted.

"We'll have to hide these last ones, you know," Matt had said after the machine spit out the photo strip.

Jack had looked over Matt's shoulder at the final pictures and nodded. "Yeah," he'd whispered. "I mean, shit yeah."

Far too much had been revealed in their smiles, the softness in their eyes, the intimacy of their poses.

Jack removed the film strip from the drawer and traced the edge of Matthew's cheek where it pressed against his in the photo. Matt's eyes were dark and he wore an enigmatic Mona Lisa smile. Except that Jack had known precisely what Matt was thinking right then. Jack closed his eyes and smiled.

"I miss you," he whispered. "All this time, and I still miss you."

When he finally opened his eyes and blinked them free of tears, the edges of the room had faded away. Grass replaced the worn, tan carpet under his feet and the pale walls and the invisible Milky Way overhead had dissolved into forest and autumn sky. His BDUs were far more comfortable than the ill-fitting suit he'd worn that late December morning but his hands were empty. No chance that whatever magic had created this place had also resurrected the photos he'd burned, whose ashes he'd scattered into these very woods so long ago.

But the apparition at the end of the path didn't waver or fade. If anything, it seemed _more_ present than its surroundings, more solid. Somehow more real.

"Matthew?" he asked again, closing the distance between them. What was only a few feet felt like miles and Jack's heart pounded unsteadily. "Is that you?"

The man smiled more widely and walked towards him, his stride was long and determined. He wore faded jeans, a white T-shirt, and an unbuttoned red flannel shirt that flapped with his every step. When they were only a few feet apart and he could see the man's face more clearly, Jack released a single, aching breath.

Not Matt.

No.

He was taller than Matt had been, but his shoulders were just as broad. He had the same lanky swimmer's build, long dark hair and high cheek bones. But the shape of his face was slightly different. And Matt had died at nineteen; this man was older, maybe thirty-five, forty. Physically mature. His hair was shot through, here and there, with silver. The handsome face was creased with faint lines, around his mouth and eyes, as if he loved to smile, and across his brow, as if he and worry -- or responsibility -- were old friends. His tilted, almond-shaped eyes were completely black, without pupil or sclera.

They were also oddly familiar.

Jack frowned. 'Nah. Couldn't be.'

"Greetings, Jack O'Neill."

Once, during a training exercise, his chute had failed to open completely. He'd managed to stay calm and followed every emergency procedure to the letter. Even so, he'd hurtled towards the spinning earth, barely in control. He'd crashed through a stand of trees and slammed into the ground. Had broken two leg bones, three ribs, and gotten a concussion.

Then, as now, it wasn't the fall, but the sudden stop at the end.

"Thor?" His voice was sharp.

The corners of Thor's mouth twitched. "You asked me to go fishing, O'Neill," he said. "I decided to accept your invitation."

For a moment, Jack stood frozen. Voiceless, mouth agape, stunned.

Then, he got pissed.

**3.**

"How I have felt that thing that's called 'to part', and feel it  
still: a dark, invincible, cruel something by which what was joined so  
well is once more shown, held out, and torn apart." --Parting, Rainer Maria Rilke  


"What the hell is going on here?"

"O'Neill?" Thor's smile faded as he took a step back. "Is something wrong?"

"Wrong? What could possibly be wrong?" Jack asked. "Wrong?" He paced restlessly for a moment and clenched his fists. "I'm walking down the hall, on my way to dinner, then home, then vacation, when _wham_! I get snatched out of the corridor without so much as a 'Hey Jack. Was in the neighborhood. Thought I might stop by.'"

Thor took another step backward as Jack pressed his advantage. "O'Neill, I--"

"I get beamed on board a ship -- presumably an Asgard ship -- but I don't know that at first, of course. All I know is that someone has decided that where ever I _was_ wasn't where they -- in their infinite wisdom -- think I _should_ be."

Step by step, Jack advanced and Thor retreated until Thor was pinned against the tree at the end of the path. In the back of Jack's mind, a little voice of self-preservation yammered, 'Don't piss off bigger guys with badder guns, O'Neill!', but he ignored it.

"And then, I figure out I'm on _your_ ship. So I rush down the hall, thinking that you might be up to your beady little eyeballs in trouble again. Open up a conveniently placed door and walk into this!" Jack threw his arms wide. "Just what the hell is this, Thor?" he demanded.

He took perverse pleasure at the dismay on Thor's face. For once, Jack was certain of what his inscrutable ally was thinking.

"O'Nei--"

"This shouldn't exist, Thor," he said, gesturing at their surroundings. "It doesn't exist. None of it. He's gone--" Jack caught himself. "It's gone. Twenty years ago. Torn down, filled in. History. All of it." The burst of anger departed, leaving behind simmering resentment and a vague sadness. "Gone," he said more softly.

Thor sighed. "I am sorry, Jack O'Neill. It was not my intention to cause you...pain."

"No?" Jack stared hard at his companion then turned away. "Well goody for you."

He walked across the rocks at the end of the path to crouch at the lake's edge. The water was as clear and cold as he remembered; he blamed the shaking of his hands on its chill.

Over the gentle lap of the waves, Jack heard Thor cross the rocks to stand close beside him. When he finally stood again, the slight breeze flicked the ends of Thor's unbound hair against his cheek.

"And just out of curiosity, how the hell did you know exactly where I was, anyway?" he asked, skipping a few flat rocks out across the lake.

Thor's answer was a long time in coming. "The members of SG-1 are...known...to the Asgard."

Jack pitched the last few rocks into the lake with a collective splash.

Tagged like a goddamn baboon on the Nature Channel.

Granted, Thor's idea of tagging was evidently more high tech than a staple through the ear. And no doubt, there was likely an major upside to being 'known' to the Asgard. Like getting beamed out of a intergalactic roach infested sub moments before death. Nonetheless, his resentment flared anew.

"And you never answered my first question, Thor," he said without turning, surprised that his voice remained even. "What the hell _is_ this place?"

"Again, O'Neill, I apologize," Thor said quietly. His voice, as modulated by a human throat, seemed richer, more resonant. "All that you see here, this...creation...was meant as a gift."

"A gift?" Jack finally turned to look at his companion, taking the opportunity to _really_ see him, rather than allowing Thor's borrowed image to slide off the edges of his vision.

Thor was a short, spindly, gray guy. 'A really bad-ass, powerful, gray guy, from a technically superior civilization,' his inner voice of caution chided. And yet, he wasn't. At least not now. His solidity and presence wasn't illusory; it somehow went much deeper than just smoke and mirrors, a mask to fool the ignorant savages.

"Yes, a gift," Thor said, then shook his head. "But I seem to have miscalculated." He withdrew a flat, tear-shaped crystal from his jeans' pocket. "I can easily dismantle it, if you wish."

"Wait! Don't!" Jack said suddenly and closed his fingers over Thor's hand. The hair-dusted skin was warm, the fingers long and strong. Familiar, human.

Perhaps.

But unexpectedly, there was a muted spark beneath his palm, like static electricity on a winter wool sweater. Seething energy swarmed up his arm and wrapped itself around his breastbone.

"Jesus Christ!" he said, just before the sensation intensified and arrowed straight through his heart.

He had the impression of antiquity, a depthless river whose currents flowed over the worn, flawed beauty of a fallen granite slab, strength and grief hidden beneath the rippling surface. Laughter and delight sparkled around him, like sunlight through the water, muted by shadows. An elusive, yet familiar warmth bubbled up from the depths. Entranced, he reached for its source, only to gasp when it all dissolved, drained through his questing fingers. He was left kneeling at the water's edge with an empty ache beneath his heart.

"Thor?" Jack asked uncertainly, and tried to struggle to his feet.

"Rest for a moment, O'Neill."

A strong hand on his shoulder held him steady and eased him back to sit on one of the larger rocks nearby. The shadows had lengthened. The sun had slipped behind the trees, but strangely, the air was still warm and the sky hadn't darkened noticeably. Instead, it held an odd bluish glow.

"What the hell was all that?" he asked when he'd caught his breath and his heart had finally stopped pounding. "Another gift?"

"No. Another miscalculation on my part." Thor sighed, then ran a hand through his hair. It was such a human gesture that Jack couldn't help but smile, easing the tension between them.

"Twice in one day? You're ruining the Asgard reputation for infallibility."

"Considering our...adventures...with the Nemesis, we are hardly that, Jack, I assure you."

For once, he didn't have to imagine the smile in Thor's voice.

"Oh, so it's 'Jack' now, is it? Going all casual on me?"

Thor smiled more widely then sat beside him on the boulder. Gradually, the feeling crept back into Jack's numb left arm, but he still felt a peculiar hum and electric warmth in his chest.

"'Thor' is hardly a formal title."

"No, Mr. Supreme Commander of the Asgard Fleet. And I bet it's not your real name either, is it?"

"You would find my full designation...difficult...to perceive or reproduce."

"Well, c'mon," he said, pulling a knee to his chest. "Don't leave me hanging. Let's hear it."

Thor tilted his head and looked at him, crinkles appeared at the corners of his eyes. "You are most persistent."

"Oh, will you just spit it out, already?"

He suppressed a flinch when Thor placed two warm fingers against his throat and spoke a series of staccato, yet oddly musical syllables, intermingled with the more conventional sounds of Thor's name. The electricity was muted this time but the sounds were accompanied by a strange pulse of heat during each of the silences. The sensation began in his throat then migrated southward, to tremble briefly in the pit of his stomach, before dissipating. His throat still tingled where Thor had touched it.

"Uh. Wow?"

Thor actually laughed aloud.

"Yeah, yeah. Go ahead. Poke fun at the ignorant barbarian," he said, more sharply than he had intended.

His companion's eyes widened. "Jack, I--"

"Wait." Jack held up his hand, and fumbled for a way to explain that wouldn't also seem ungrateful. After all, this amazing -- and baffling -- creation of Thor's was meant to be a gift. "Ignore that. Look, Thor. All this," he gestured vaguely. "You have to understand. It's kind of -- unexpected."

"No, Jack. It is I who must apologize," Thor said quickly. "I am told that the road to hell is paved with good intentions..."

"This is hardly hell, Thor," Jack said, unthinkingly placing a hand on his companion's arm. This time however, there was no spark. Instead, his palm tingled with a gentle, pleasant warmth and the space beneath his heart vibrated with -- anxiety and chagrin?

Jack blinked and pulled his hand back. What the hell?

"Even so--"

"Look, Thor. Forget about it. You caught me off guard," Jack said. "Just don't disappear it yet, okay?"

"As you wish, Jack," Thor said, and turned to look at him directly. His eyes gleamed and the heat in Jack's chest intensified. "You are most forgiving."

"Yeah, well. I'm just a forgiving kinda guy," he said, rubbing at his breastbone.

"And I am most fortunate."

"Aw, shucks, Thor. Cut it out," Jack said. "Now, tell me about this gift of yours."

After a slight pause, Thor nodded. "Very well," he said, and slid off the boulder. "But why don't I show you as well. Will you walk with me?"

"Fine," Jack said, and joined Thor on the rocky beach. "Just tell me that _food_ is part of this gift of yours? I'm starving."

"Yes, I have prepared a meal for you," Thor said. "Follow me."

"Oh, and none of those yellow cube thingies you fed Carter, either."

"Jack." Thor's grin was unexpected and devilish. "Would I do that to you?"

He had never allowed himself to think of Thor as a friend; the distances between them seemed too vast. They were allies, bound together by the forces of political expediency, nothing more. But sometimes, he would catch a flash of Thor's sly humor and wonder what it might be like to count Thor among his friends. And wish that it were possible to find out.

Jack raised one eyebrow.

Thor laughed. "Not to worry, my friend," he replied. "I persuaded Major Carter to describe to me the tastes that humans find pleasing. I am discovering that where humans are involved, there is quite a large gap between theory...and practice." Thor gripped his shoulder briefly, then set off westward through the woods following a path that Jack was certain hadn't been there earlier.

Friend?

Jack blinked and rubbed his chest again. Feeling relaxed and strangely lighthearted, he followed Thor deeper into the woods.

*

For as long as Jack could remember, a long hike through the woods or an afternoon spent beside a quiet mountain lake or on a rocky, windswept beach would always dissolve the tension, erase his concerns, and fill him with a wild, ringing peace.

Today, after hours spent under the mountain, smothered by military-issue cinder block and assaulted by the constant hum of fluorescent lights and frenzied human activity, even the illusion of nature offered by Thor's gift was welcome.

Growing up, whenever things got too tense, he would escape to the woods near his home. Sometimes alone, other times with Matt. There, he would be still and listen to nature speak. His time at the Academy had been difficult; he'd rarely had time or permission to escape, except in his imagination or during a rare lull in a training exercise.

Not all his companions over the years had understood the power of silence and stillness, but Matthew certainly had. The hours they'd spent under the trees or the stars, dreaming their futures, of other worlds and other suns, were mostly spent in silence. Sometimes, only a hand gesture or a touch was needed to communicate the most subtle or profound insight or to simply adjust the camera or telescope.

Daniel understood. Like Carter, the man could babble a blue streak when excited about his latest find, restlessly pacing and sketching the air with his hands. But he could also be perfectly still. Sometimes, after a slow day spent surveying a deserted countryside, helping to excavate artifacts or mineral deposits, or digging trenches along Daniel's precisely marked archaeological grid-lines, Jack would send Sam and Teal'c to patrol the perimeter. Then, before they headed back through the Stargate, he and Daniel would sit together for a short while and watch the sunset or moonrise. And learn what silence meant on an alien world.

And now, it seemed that Thor understood as well; since they'd begun their hike, his companion had not spoken.

Where ever they were headed, Thor didn't seem in much of a hurry, so Jack took the opportunity to stroke his fingers along the smooth, peeling bark of the neighboring birch trees, to feel the rough bark of elms and gnarled oaks. Birds, some he didn't recognize, called to one another from the trees and unseen creatures rustled through the undergrowth. Jack closed his eyes briefly and enjoyed the faint warmth of the setting sun on his face, fractured though it was by the trees along the path. Wind sighed through the woods, caressing his hair and scuffling the first fallen leaves around their ankles.

It was all so very real. And yet, with the exception of Thor, not-quite-real as well. As if he had some additional, unsatisfied physical sense beyond the usual five.

A short walk later, the terrain became hilly and the flame-clothed deciduous trees gave way to the prickle and pungency of pine and spruce. Jack frowned. The area around his lake had been completely flat, except for the occasional boulder.

As the land became steeper and more rocky, the path twisted back on itself several times and despite his orienteering skills, Jack lost track of their direction. Veins of yellow and white crystal glittered in the crumbled rocks underfoot and new, unfamiliar plants also began to appear, interspersed with the others. Tall gangly trees that looked like pines yet had dark purple bark and foot-long, spiky lavender and blue needles. Scrubby gray bushes with flat, oval-shaped leaves and vivid green berries. Delicate, creeping vines whose lurid color was definitely not found in any Crayola box. The vines crumbled to fine powder when he brushed them cautiously with his finger.

"Definitely not Kansas," Jack said under his breath.

Startled, he paused when a pack of squat, mottled Jurassic Park reptile-things, darted out from between the trail-side rocks. One of the creatures hissed at him, showing tiny sharp teeth, then ran across his foot and into the underbrush.

"What the--?"

Thor glanced over his shoulder then laughed. "Don't worry, Jack. It is perfectly harmless."

"Oh sure. Harmless. If you don't mind getting oozed on," he said, scuffing his boot free of the slime left by the lizard. Damn good illusion.

"Nothing here can harm you, Jack. Also, it is not a carnivore. Rather, its teeth are adapted for tearing the thick, crystalline vegetation." Thor gestured at a purple tree.

"Ah, right. Crystalline vegetation. Sure," Jack said. "So, where are we headed, anyway?"

"Just a bit further along the trail," Thor said, and gestured off to the left. "If that is alright?"

"Lay on, MacDuff."

Thor looked puzzled for a moment then shook his head and continued on.

Minutes later, the trail steepened, the foliage thinned out, and the path opened onto a broad, grassy clearing. Jack stepped out of the shade and into the dying sunlight and inhaled sharply. The geography was breathtaking.

And impossible.

They stood on a sloping, semi-circular cliff, at least a thousand feet above a restless turquoise sea. A trail lined with white domed buildings wound down the mountainside towards the rocky coast and the strip of lavender beach far below; it tucked in, here and there, behind gray, green, and purple trees. Off to the left, plumes of smoke and ash hung above distant volcanic peaks. When he looked back in the direction from which he'd thought they'd come, he saw _his_ lake. It lay in the valley below like a sapphire nestled in folds of soft green velvet. And though the orange sun was slowly sinking into the ocean, setting the waves ablaze, a second sun now hung above the distant, familiar trees and lake. Its pale blue light was soothing and mild.

"My god." He breathed softly, unexpected tears stinging his eyes.

Thor came to stand beside him but Jack could barely look away from the vista.

"Does it meet with...your approval, Jack O'Neill?"

"It's--" Jack swallowed hard. "Thor, it's incredible," he said. "You made this for me?"

"I did." Thor's voice was barely audible over the light, warm breeze.

When Thor smiled, his chest felt warm again and he was filled with a quiet joy that seemed curiously doubled. As if he were sharing an echo of that sensation from elsewhere, outside of himself.

"What you see before you, Jack, is a...blending...of places of fond remembrance belonging to you and to me," Thor explained. "The mountains and ocean you see were found on Alfheim. A planet of which I have...dear memories. But the suns," and here Thor smiled. "You may recognize them. Your astronomers call them Beta Cygni."

Jack struggled to make sense of what he was seeing, to find the right words. "How?" he asked finally. And inadequately.

"The _Osk'Dreyma_ is similar in concept to what you know of as a hologram, although the underlying physics are quite different. It is also far more tangible and tactile in nature than a hologram. I demonstrated the technology to Major Carter when--"

"No." Jack shook his head. "I meant the lake, the forest. Alberio. Your--appearance?" He choked slightly on the word.

"Oh." Thor clasped his hands together and a faint line appeared between his brows. "When you first came through my Stargate, Jack, after you had made use of the Ancients' device." He looked down at his twined fingers, avoiding Jack's gaze. "It was necessary to replicate the complete state of your mental apparatus. In order to successfully remove the...incompatible...information."

Jack felt cold.

The Asgard had downloaded and inspected his brain. Every memory and thought, no matter how profound or petty.

It wasn't a surprise though, not really. How else could Thor have known? About his lake, about Matt. About any of it. And yeah, the information in his head represented a potential strategic advantage for the Asgard: know thy enemy, know thy ally, and all that.

Hell, if _he_ had the chance to get inside Yosuuf's head, to pry loose some Tok'ra secrets, he probably would. Wouldn't he?

But _still_\--.

"It was necessary...to save your life."

\--For a moment, the invasion left him breathless.

"But until now, I had not truly appreciated how...unpleasant...the knowing might be to you." Thor bowed his head. "I am truly sorry, Jack O'Neill."

So Thor knew. He understood then, about the privacy that a man -- a _human_ \-- expected to have inside his own head. Jack had been around enough to realize that a right to privacy was far from universal, even on earth. But hell, only the replicating was necessary; the rest was pure politics. Or something.

And shit, what a security breach. The Asgard now knew everything he knew. Which, admittedly wasn't much regarding technology or science, but the missions -- the codes, and coordinates, Earth politics. Oh yeah, they knew. Even if the information was a couple years out of date. Strategic information aside, Jack tried hard not to think of the other, sordid -- highly personal -- articles of mental laundry that Thor probably rifled through as well.

"You know, Thor. I know that compared to you guys, we're like just barely hatched," he said. "But do you have to keep rubbing it in?"

Thor went very still.

Jack turned away before he said anything truly unforgivable, and instead walked to the edge of the cliff. Figures moved in the distance, far below along the shore. Fishermen, mooring their skiffs in the sheltered cove off to the left, dragging in nets filled with the days catch. A flock orange sea birds descended upon the beach and smaller figures -- children perhaps? -- chased them away from the nets.

Finally, when his knees got tired, he sat down in the grass. He smiled despite himself: for every three or four blades of green, there was a purple- or blue-tipped blade added to the mix. Evidence of Thor's artistry. Jack wondered if this -- blending -- perhaps contained a message that was still too subtle for him to yet grasp.

A few moments later, Thor sat down beside him. When Jack glanced his way, tension was evident in every line of his borrowed body, from his rigid posture to the hands clenched around his knees; as if Thor anticipated an argument or further outrage.

Jack found it rough going not to make good on those unspoken expectations.

They sat for a long time in silence. Long enough for the yellow sun to slip beneath the cloud scraped horizon and for a slight inland breeze to rise. When Thor finally spoke, the pain evident in his voice made Jack ache, despite his own confusion.

"As I am sure you have guessed, after we completed your mental scan, we, or rather I, also examined its...contents," Thor said. His voice was low and rough. "It was necessary to save your life, true. But it was also necessary to determine the level of...risk...that your presence posed to the Asgard."

Of course. Standard procedure. The U.S. military just didn't have the nifty Asgard ability to pluck the thoughts from someone's brain without benefit of drugs. Or pain.

"Under normal circumstances, I would not have inspected your innermost thoughts..." Thor turned to look at Jack then, and the ends of his hair blew across Jack's face and into the corner of his mouth.

"...But your arrival was nothing less than extraordinary."

Jack had the sudden, irrational urge to tuck the wayward strands behind Thor's ear; he wrapped his arms around his knees to avoid temptation. And reminded himself that he was still pissed. And that the man before him was not Matt. And not a man, exactly.

"The Asgard have studied humans a very long time, Jack O'Neill," Thor said. "On every world they have proven themselves to be adaptable and inventive. The humans of Earth, especially so. We anticipated that you would one day...locate...a Stargate. Render it operational. We were therefore unsurprised to encounter evidence of your presence on other worlds."

"However," he continued. "Never even in our most optimistic projections, had we expected you to find your way to our very doorstep. And since that moment, you -- and your companions -- have not ceased to amaze us. To amaze _me_."

Jack stared at Thor in surprise. "Thor, I--."

"Please." Thor held up his hand. "Allow me to finish, O'Neill," he said. "You should not have been able to use the knowledge of the Ancients' as you did. Not only was the information incompatible with human biology, but you personally do not possess the necessary scientific foundation to utilize it. And yet, there you were, in my gate room--."

Thor's words had the effect of loosening the tight knot of anger that had lodged in Jack's gut and warming the space beneath his heart. He'd had Thor rummaging around in his memories and yet, try as he might, he couldn't seem to stay annoyed with the guy. Fascinating.

"--Resourceful enough to decode the Ancients' message and adapt your Stargate accordingly," Thor continued. "And courageous enough to then step through it to an unknown destination and an equally unknown reception. Amazing."

"We do that all the time." On every mission to some new P-digit-X-whatever.

"As I said: amazing." Thor leaned towards him and placed a hand on his arm. "In a few short years, despite your technological...disadvantages, you have formed notable alliances, have bested powerful Goa'uld system lords, and have become a significant player in an ancient, treacherous game of intergalactic politics. This, is...unprecedented."

About time somebody out there noticed. "We do okay."

"And I have not forgotten: you saved my life, Jack," Thor said. "And my home."

"Yeah, well. It's not like we were just gonna leave you hanging."

But something in Thor's expression told him that Thor had been disappointed in exactly that way once before.

Thor gave his hand a brief squeeze. "I am...deeply grateful...that you did not." Jack felt a familiar, internal shiver when his hand was released.

"As Commander of the Asgard Fleet," Thor continued. "There are protocols that circumscribe my level of...involvement...with your world. Rules and treaties that govern the degree of...assistance...that the Asgard may render to you." Thor ran his fingers through the multi-colored grass then looked over at Jack. "However, as myself -- as 'Thor' -- I confess that those limits seem unacceptable. Especially given the extent of your assistance to us. To me."

Ah. It all made sense. "And so you created this Osk-whatchamacallit."

"The Osk'Dreyma, yes." Thor sighed, his shoulders were hunched. "I am sorry that it has upset you, Jack. The lake and its environs factored prominently in those of your memories most often associated with ...joy. And longing. I had hoped that, despite its genesis, you might enjoy it." Thor sounded wistful.

Jack closed his eyes briefly as the last of his anger drained away. He had often longed for that lost time and place over the years. When life had been, at least in retrospect, uncomplicated and where mistakes had few lasting consequences. When, for a brief time, he had loved someone who had known his every secret and flaw. Someone who had, in turn, loved him unconditionally. He could hardly blame Thor for noticing.

"Thor. Like I said. It's--." Jack fished around for a word that could capture and express the sum of his contradictory emotions; he failed. "--It's, well. Pretty much. _Wow_, okay?" he finished helplessly. "I don't want you to think that I don't like it. Because I do."

Thor tilted his head and his worried expression faded, becoming speculative. "But it is also somewhat uncomfortable as well. Is that it?" his companion asked. "It is, perhaps too...intimate?"

Intimate was one word for it. Ambiguous and confusing worked, too. So did heart-stopping. "Why _this_ body, Thor?" he asked. "Why Matthew?"

Thor avoided meeting his eyes. "It would be...unethical...for me to choose the semblance of a...living man."

"And what?" Jack persisted. "It isn't easy being gray?"

After a lengthy, uncomfortable silence, Thor finally said, "Shall I dismantle the Osk'Dreyma, Jack? Or are you willing to forgive my... transgression? And make good on your offer to teach me to fish?"

Jack gave Thor a long, level look. Despite his inclination to cut directly to the chase, he had learned that sometimes, the most important truths were best approached obliquely. With stealth and patience.

"How long will this fishing trip take?"

His chest grew warm again when Thor looked at him hopefully. "Approximately forty-eight of your hours, Jack," Thor said.

There would be hell to pay if Hammond tried to reach him in the next few days. Or if anyone noticed that his car was still in the parking lot and that he'd never gone through the checkpoint.

Hell, who was he kidding? Of _course_ someone would notice.

"Any chance for a call home?"

Thor hesitated. "That would be very...awkward, Jack. My presence here is...unsanctioned."

"Why Thor," he said with a grin. "You little sneak."

Thor shrugged a bit sheepishly.

After careful consideration that took both his growling stomach as well as his growing curiosity, into account, Jack finally said, "Well then, fine. On one condition."

"Condition?"

"Yes," Jack said. "Food. Now. I'm starving." He'd figure out what to tell Hammond later.

"It would be my privilege, Jack." Thor's bright grin erased ten years of worry from his face.

*

Dinner was a picnic straight out of the fifties, complete with a large, red checked blanket spread beneath a broad oak at the edge of the clearing and a wicker basket whose inner and outer dimensions were clearly in conflict.

"Just how big is that damn basket of yours?" Jack asked, as he watched Thor remove yet another, improbably large container from the basket and set it to one side. He'd already had his hand smacked with a serving spoon when he'd tried to reach in and find out for himself.

"Very." Thor had obviously been taking lessons in deadpan from Teal'c.

"Hey!" Jack said, and made a grab for what looked like a well-chilled six pack. "Thor, if that's a six pack of beer--." He paused when Thor uncovered a dish of what looked and smelled like hot, juicy sirloin. "--And _that's_ a steak, then you are hereby officially forgiven."

"That is very good to hear, Jack." Thor smiled widely and opened several more containers.

A green salad was followed by a dish of carrots in some kind of lemony scented glaze, two mammoth baked potatoes with butter, and a golden-brown pumpkin pie.

"I hope that you find the meal to your taste," Thor said, and laid out gold-rimmed plates, silverware, cloth napkins, and two ice-frosted beer glasses.

Norman Rockwell simplicity had taken a sharp detour into the land of haute cuisine. "What are you? The Asgard Martha Stewart?"

"Martha Stewart?"

"Never mind. Just tell me that everything tastes as good as it looks," Jack said, and loaded his plate with food.

"I have done my best."

Given the improbable accuracy of the other parts of Thor's Osk'Dreyma, Jack dug into his meal without reservation. The beer was crisp and cold, if a bit more intoxicating than usual, and damned if the steak didn't taste just like the real thing. As he'd expected, Thor's 'best' was pretty damn outstanding.

When he looked over at Thor, his companion was smiling at him indulgently.

"What? Never seen a guy enjoy his food before?"

Thor shook his head. "I am merely pleased that you find the flavor recreation pleasing."

"Recreation?" Jack paused. "As in, this isn't really steak?" He eyed his plate a little warily. 'Rule One for eating foreign food: never ask what it's made of, you idiot!' he reminded himself.

"My beliefs forbid me to create or consume food derived from the substances of living beings," Thor explained. "Therefore, our meals are constructed from chemical compounds that were carefully selected to mimic the flavors of--"

What was it about him, Jack wondered vaguely, that he was constantly surrounded by geeks? Was it his screwed up karma? Had he pissed off the great god of Geekdom in a previous life? "Just forget I asked, okay?" Jack waved his fork. "It's good. Really. Seriously. Yum."

Thor laughed and they continued the meal. From time to time, birds and other creatures -- feathered, leathered, tufted, or furred -- would wander through the meadow or fly by overhead, and Thor would name them.

"Not that I'm complaining or anything, but I notice there aren't any ants at this picnic," Jack said.

There was a distinct twinkle in Thor's eye. "Given your distaste for...bugs...I elided them from the template, Jack."

Jack shook his head. A good friend might help you hide a body, but it seemed that an even better one would delete the bugs from your holographic picnic.

Just as they were finishing their pie a la mode -- Thor had pulled a credible knock-off of Ben and Jerry's Cherry Garcia from his magic basket -- they were overrun by a group of golden-furred, chittering animals, the size and shape of ferrets.

To Jack's surprise, several of the creatures immediately sought out Thor, nestled in his lap and licked the ice cream from his fingers. A fourth, with distinctive black-tipped ears, twined itself around Jack's thigh and made a grab for the last bite of his pie.

"I don't think so," Jack said, and held the plate out of reach. The animal rose on its hind legs, fixed him with bright yellow eyes and screeched. Its pals took up the cause and within moments, he was mobbed by the entire pack. Their tiny claws prickled, snagged his clothing, and caught in his hair. "Uh, Thor? A little help here?"

Thor could barely speak for laughing. "It is never wise to withhold food -- or anything else for that matter -- from a _samfelag_ of _reykr_."

"A what of _what_?!" Jack pried one of the creatures loose from his collar while struggling to shake another one free of his sleeve.

"Never mind, Jack. Just give them the pie."

"Jeez," he said, and set the plate on the ground. The horde of reykr leapt away from him and pounced on the plate. When they finished with the pie, they swarmed over the other open containers. The leftovers never stood a chance. Every plate and container was licked clean. "Never a dull moment when you're around, Thor."

"I could certainly say the same, Jack."

"Huh," Jack said, as he tried to straighten his clothing. "All part of my charm."

"Or something." Thor scooped up one of the reykr and ran his fingers through its silky fur.

"Hey!" Jack would have protested further except that the reykr who'd started off the frenzy chose that moment to pounce. "What?" he asked the squirming, purring creature in his lap. "Now that you've scarfed all my pie you want to make friends? How convenient."

"Aldrnari appears to like you," Thor said.

"Yeah, well. Kids and dogs," Jack said. "And now, I guess reykr, too. His, her name is Aldrnari?"

"Yes. She was always the most...engaging. And here are Orthspakr, Haarfegr, and Hret," Thor said, indicating the other reykr, who blinked and churred when their names were spoken.

Jack felt the reykr's slight weight in his lap and wondered, 'Live? Or Memorex?' Somehow, he was betting on the latter. When he glanced at Thor, his companion's expression was wistful.

"They are all recreations, Jack," Thor said softly, in answer to his unspoken question. "Only you and I are...real, here. The members of this fellowship of reykr were the companions of my...children."

"You have kids?" Of course, it made sense. Surely Thor must have people who cared for, who loved him. Maybe the Asgard equivalent of a wife. Some kids.

"Had. Yes." Thor looked down and ruffled Hret's fur. "A very long time ago."

"Oh." Jack felt Thor's pain as if it were still fresh; as if it were his own. "I understand."

"We -- my partners and I -- resided on Alfheim," Thor said. "As scholars, scientists, our studies included the...adaptive patterns and strategies of the reykr and other native beings. Also, the planet's geophysical, geochemical, and atmospheric processes. For nearly one hundred of your years, we conducted our research and raised our family in the dwellings you see below us, along the cliff." Thor's voice trailed off. "And then, the Goa'uld came."

Jack could imagine all too well what had happened. "And...?"

"And they were killed," Thor said. His head was bowed and his fingers were clenched in Hret's fur. "All of them. We were overrun. As a small, remote scientific outpost, we were unprepared for the savagery of the Goa'uld.

We fought, but...still, they destroyed our homes, razed the planet. Of my...partnership, I, alone, survived." Thor shook his head. "We had ninety-three years together, and it was not enough."

Ninety-three. "No," he agreed, and gently placed his hand on Thor's bent knee. "No matter how long, it never is."

Thor's hand closed over his and they sat silently for a moment listening to distant thunder of the surf against the cliff face below and the sighing of the still-warm breeze through the trees.

"It changes you, doesn't it?" Jack said. Death always wrought changes, left scars, whether you'd dealt it yourself, or were a helpless, hopeless bystander.

"Yes." Thor's hand tightened on his suddenly. "That day. After the smoke had cleared, I left science behind. And became a warrior."

"When was that?"

"Over two thousand years ago, Jack."

Two thousand.

Jack felt numb and lightheaded with exhaustion. Or shock. "Your kids. What were their names?" he asked.

"Afl, Angan, and Kyrr," Thor said. Each name was accompanied by a faint vibration in his body, as when Thor had spoken his true name. His companion squeezed his hand again, then moved away and began to pack the empty containers into the basket. "It is getting late, Jack, and you are probably exhausted. I should show you to your evening...accommodations."

Jack stifled a yawn. "I'm okay, I'm awake." He would have liked to know more. About Thor's children, their ages, sexes -- their names offered no clues. About his...partners? But now was clearly not the time. Instead, he moved to put a few containers back into the basket. Thor smacked his hand. "Well fine. Pack your own damn basket. Huh."

"You are far from subtle, Jack." Thor was smiling.

"Au contraire. I can be _very_ subtle. When I want to be. Just because you've rummaged around in my brain for a while doesn't mean you know all there is to know about me."

"Certainly not," Thor said dryly. "There is, of course, no substitute for...direct experience."

"Uh, yeah." Jack felt suddenly warm under Thor's intense stare. "Exactly. Which is why I'm going to directly experience this grass with my bare feet." He pulled off his boots and socks and wiggled his toes in the cool purple and green carpet. "Nice," he said, lay back on a corner of the blanket, arms folded under his head, with his feet in the grass. "Two thumbs up."

"I am glad that you approve."

The second sun had somehow, improbably, crossed most of the sky while they'd eaten. It now hung low, more lavender and violet than blue, as it neared the horizon. Overhead, the first stars had appeared, sparkling in vibrant rainbow shades and unknown constellations.

"What sky is this?"

Thor settled beside Jack and lay back on the blanket. "This is the night sky of my home world Othala, when I was very young. The colors of the stars appear more intense than you are used to because I have rendered them as they appear to me."

"Huh. Do you guys name the constellations, too?"

"We do," Thor said, and gestured fluidly with his left hand. The sun faded beneath the horizon and the sky darkened swiftly. "Above our heads, the curved pattern--" Thor gestured again, and a scattering of stars shone more brightly "--is known as the _Einstigi_, meaning 'The Proper Path."

"Beautiful," Jack said, unsure if he meant the sky or the sound of Thor's voice.

The combination of a full stomach, the afterburn of adrenaline, and no few recreated, highly alcoholic beers made him sleepy and relaxed. Jack allowed his eyes to slide shut and he drifted along, enjoying the peculiar internal hum caused by Thor's voice as his friend named the constellations overhead.

"To the left is the pattern known as _Seithr_, 'The Charm'. To its right is the _Dreymavetar_, 'A Winter Foretold in Dreams'. And there, that cluster is known as _Aska_, 'The Ashes'."

"Thor?" One name had snagged his attention. "Osk'Dreyma," he said drowsily. "What does it mean?"

It was fully dark now although the temperature was still mild. Thor was a vague, warm shape beside him.

"Wish-Dream, Jack," Thor said. "An Osk'Dreyma is literally a dream born of wishes."

"Mm." He thought of the lake and forest below. The dwellings along the cliff side. The twin suns of Alberio and the night sky of ancient Othala above them. The mischievous reykr -- one of whom had curled up on his chest with its wet nose beneath his chin. "Wish-Dream."

He might have said, "Perfect," but by then, he was walking along the slippery lakeside rocks -- jeans rolled up, fishing pole over his shoulder, shadowy companion at his side -- in dreams.

**4.**

"It is life in slow motion,  
it is the heart in reverse,  
it is a hope-and-a-half:  
too much and too little at once."

\--The Wait, Rainer Maria Rilke

The bridge of his nose prickled and the hair on the back of his neck tried to rise: he was being watched. Silently, eyes closed, Jack took inventory. He lay on his back, naked and warm beneath a light blanket. Weak morning sunlight pooled on his face, reddening his inner eye lids. A light breeze ruffled the hair on his forehead, carrying the music of birdsong and the scent of flowers and ripe fruit. He inhaled and prepared to roll over, still feigning sleep, but the slight weight on his chest chittered in protest.

Aldrnari.

He opened his eyes and met her bright yellow gaze. She sniffed once, sneezed, then bounded off the end of the bed.

"Eww." Jack sat up and wiped his face. "Thanks a lot."

He was in a large, circular chamber seemingly without walls. The draped, canopied bed sat on a platform at the outer edge of the circle, nestled in an arc of rough-hewn gray rock. The rest of the room was open to the outdoors; the view was spectacular. Dense, multi-colored plants clustered around the stone foundation of the cottage, and a few tall, limbless trees waved blue-green fronds against the slowly lightening sky. Mist shrouded the vegetation carpeting the cliff side, and in the distance, he could just make out the foam crested waves, tinted orange and gold by the rising sun.

The interior was no less impressive. Bright, nubby rugs were scattered over the dark slate floor and ornate geometric designs wreathed the wooden ceiling supports, the railings along the platform, and each of the bed posts. Daniel would have been in a frenzy to examine the alien knickknacks, artifacts, and sculptures that lay about the room; Jack smiled. From the draperies on the canopy, to the linens on the bed, to the plush robe lying on a nearby chair, every aspect of the cottage spoke of an understated, if slightly alien, decadence.

Nothing like vacationing first class, Asgard-style. Robin Leach could take lessons.

Jack slipped out of bed, donned and belted the robe, then looked around for whatever passed for a bathroom in paradise. Thirty-five minutes later -- ten of which were spent deciphering the shower controls -- he reentered the room, shaved, bathed, and with a fervent appreciation for Asgard hospitality. Next pay raise, he was installing a Jacuzzi. A huge, sunken Jacuzzi, with a thousand jets, connected to a five-hundred gallon water heater. He suspected that the gold faucets and the wall-sized mosaic of the Milky Way might have to wait a few years, though.

Fresh clothing had been laid out for him on the low table at the foot of the bed, next to his own carefully folded BDUs and his gun. Jack pulled on the T-shirt and comfortably faded jeans, then sat on the steps leading up to the platform and strapped a decent pair of Teva knock-offs. When he adjusted the Velcro straps on the sandals with a rrrip, Aldrnari hissed at the sound and glared at him, her fur standing on end.

Jack laughed. "Consider it payback for the pie, fuzzball."

He decided not to wonder exactly how he'd gotten naked and put to bed in the first place. He'd slept eight, solid and nightmare-free hours, awakened in an impressive imitation of Eden, and had a fine day of fishing ahead of him. The rest could go hang.

"So," he said to the reykr. "The only thing missing now is breakfast. And my host. Any ideas?"

Aldrnari blinked once then bounded down the stairs and leapt upon a trestle table that coalesced from thin air.

Jack sat down at the table and shook his head at the striped bowl and pitcher of milk. Thor had obviously been talking to Carter, the sneak; Froot Loops were a _recent_ guilty pleasure.

Thor arrived just as Jack finished his second bowl and had started in on a glass of orange juice. Dressed in yesterday's clothing, he carried a backpack this time, instead of a picnic basket. Hret, rode his shoulder.

This morning, his resemblance to Matthew much less pronounced, although still evident in his height, his leanness, and the shape of his hands. Matt, and yet not. But the person he knew as Thor was present as well, revealed in the odd grace and precision of his movements, the occasional, unexpected tilt of his head, and the deliberate, owl-like blinking of his slanted eyes. Jack closed his eyes briefly as the odd, sweet ache in his chest began anew.

"Good morning, Jack. You appear well-rested. I assume that you found the accommodations to your taste?" Thor's voice was soft, it's cadence slightly stilted.

"Yeah, you could say that. And thanks for breakfast. Although, just a heads up. Froot Loops do not taste like guava."

"You should feel fortunate that their flavor is recognizable at all, Jack," Thor said with a smile. "I didn't have much data to work with. Apparently, Major Carter finds their taste rather unappealing."

"Carter has _no_ taste," Jack muttered, and shifted over on the bench when Thor sat down beside him.

"I beg to differ, Jack. I would say that she has excellent taste. In friends."

Jack paused with the glass halfway to his lips. He wondered if Sam ever felt this way about Martouf. Confused about what memories were hers and which belonged to Jolinar. Which feelings were real and which were powerful echoes of emotions -- and lovers -- past.

"Hey you two! Outta there!" Jack swatted at Aldrnari and Hret who had crept under his arm and thrust their noses into his mysteriously refilled cereal bowl. Startled, they both leapt way, scattering multi-colored O's across the table. "Are they this sneaky in real life?"

"Actually, they are worse," Thor said, scooping Hret off the table and placing him on his shoulder. "I am quite eager to begin my fishing lesson, Jack. Would you like to leave for the lake shortly?"

"Sure. I'm ready." Jack downed the rest of the juice and rose. "Need me to carry anything?" Just for kicks, he reached for the backpack.

Thor's lips quirked in a smile. "Thank you, but I believe I can manage." He stood, casually hefted the pack over his unoccupied shoulder and headed towards a stone path that led into the trees.

"Was worth a shot." Jack shrugged and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Well," he said to Aldrnari. "You coming?"

He paused at the corner of the table for her to jump to his shoulder, then followed Thor into the awakening forest.

*

Jack settled back against the old, bark-worn oak with a smile. The yellow sun had just cleared the tree tops, scattering gold confetti over the lake and dusting his face with warmth. Aldrnari dozed in his lap and Thor leaned against the tree beside him, fishing pole in hand, eyes closed, mysterious back pack at his side.

Twenty-five years had passed since last he'd sat beneath the oaks sheltering this tiny lake front nook. Then, as now, the water was dark and still with an occasional ripple, shiver, or pale flash of fish or frog just beneath the surface.

By some quirk of fate, he and Matt had never fished here together. They'd never leaned shoulder-to-shoulder against this tree, never baited hooks and dropped lines into the murky water hoping for a good catch. They'd never shared the silence here or this angle of sunlight on the water. And yet still, Jack was haunted by his presence and absence.

But this was no grief-born revenant sent to remind him of the morning that he'd released the charred remains of their last photos into the breeze. Instead, it wrapped him comfortably in lazy, shared summer days spent fishing, or lying in the shade of a big tree. It whispered of the crisp autumn evenings they had spent raking leaves and crunching through the huge piles, their breath frosting the air. It murmured of wet, early spring mornings, sharing the walk to school when dew drops on the grass and young leaves glittered like a million stars. And for once, he felt no pain or regret, only peace, contentment, and a rare inner joy.

After an hour or so of silence, Aldrnari and Hret abandoned them to explore the trees overhead and Jack took the opportunity to reel in his line and recast. The fish weren't biting just yet, now that Thor had toned down the parameters of his flocking algorithm. Exactly what flocking had to do with fish had escaped Jack. But after a couple waves of Thor's hand, the fish -- hundreds, of all kinds: Coho salmon, trout, catfish, and even a good-sized tuna that shattered his first pole -- had ceased to desperately fling themselves upon their hooks.

"You know, Thor," he had said, after releasing his eighth fish back into the water. "The odds of finding this many. Of each of these fish. In the same lake. Are like. Well. _Ze-ro_. Don't you guys have a 'Fishing On Earth' entry in your pangalactic culture database?"

Thor had seemed unfazed. "As I explained. There is a gap between theory and practice."

"Yeah, well. You managed to get the bathroom right. I figured you could manage not to mix fresh water and salt water fish."

"Hm. I believe that the colloquial term is 'oops'?"

"And here, back when we first met, I was convinced that you guys had absolutely no sense of humor."

"Jack." Thor had admonished. "Surely you realize that the true measure of a species' advancement is the sophistication of its humor."

Jack rolled his eyes. "So I take it that, as far as humor goes, the Asgard are on the top rung of the ladder."

"But of course."

Big surprise. "Which must mean that Apophis and his crew are only a rung or two up from slime mold and shelf fungus."

"Precisely." Thor had smiled broadly.

"Huh." He wasn't about to ask exactly where the Tau'ri fit along the Asgard humor continuum, although it was moderately comforting to know that the Stooges and the Simpsons probably beat out what passed for humor among the snakes.

Once Thor had sedated his suicidal 'flock', they both settled down to the real business of fishing.

To his surprise, Thor was a natural. Where other friends had spent most of their time twitching restlessly, casting and recasting their lines, scowling at the lack -- or size -- of the fish they'd caught, in contrast, Thor looked utterly relaxed. Of course, he was always a tough read. Through bugs, battle, and imminent death, Jack had never seen his friend so much as twitch an eyelash. Or an eyelid.

"So," he said finally, breaking the companionable silence. "Whaddaya think so far?"

"About the fishing?" Thor braced the fishing pole between his knees and turned to face him. "It is a very pleasant diversion, Jack. Although I had expected something slightly more...rigorous."

"No kidding." Jack chuckled, thinking of the earlier fish frenzy. "Saltwater fishing can be a lot more exciting. Especially if you get a marlin or a shark at the end of your line. But, as far as I'm concerned, nothing beats a nice quiet lake, a big shady tree, and a glimpse, every so often, of the Big One."

"Now that I have experienced it, I am inclined to agree. The lack of...excitement...is most appreciated. I admit that I had some reservations about tormenting sentient creatures with simulated victuals and barbed hooks."

"Yeah, well." Jack grumbled. "We can't all be peace-and-love breatharians."

"The Asgard have a violent past, Jack. But we have worked diligently to eliminate our remaining...barbarism...over the past ten millennia."

"Well yay-rah for the home team. Me, I'll take that steak cooked medium, thank you very much."

The corner of Thor's mouth twitched; he didn't seem inclined to argue. "Do your colleagues enjoy fishing as well?"

Jack shrugged. "No idea. So far, I haven't managed to talk any of them into it. Daniel and Teal'c might be game. But I doubt that Carter could sit still long enough to bait a hook."

Thor laughed softly. "Possibly not. Major Carter reminds me somewhat of my eldest duthsonnr, Afl. Confident, yet not falsely so. Restless. Relentlessly curious."

Afl? "Your daughter? Son?"

Thor paused for a moment and tilted his head. "Human categories of sex and gender do not have accurate Asgard...analogues."

"Uh. Oh. Yeah?" And what the hell did _that_ mean? Male, female. Man, woman. QED Right? Then he remembered the Goa'uld and Tok'ra and groaned inwardly. He could use a patented Daniel Jackson translation right about now.

"However," Thor continued. "In your terminology Afl would be classified as female. As are all Asgard children, prior to _barnsaldr-nithrlag_. Once they attain sexual maturity, the situation becomes more...complex."

"Ah." And wouldn't Daniel and Frasier fall all over themselves to get a hold of this bizarre Asgard tidbit.

His friend looked highly amused. "In answer to your obvious -- but politely unspoken question -- Jack, I am more male than not. At this time."

At this time. "Well. That's good to know," Jack muttered.

Thor laughed outright, then calmed himself with obvious effort; his eyes glittered.

"Oh, cut it out, willya?" Jack elbowed him in the ribs. "So I was a little thrown there for a minute. How was I supposed to know? Give a guy a break. Jeez."

Thor grinned and then unexpectedly shoved him back harder.

"Hey!" Jack returned the gesture in kind and within moments, their good-natured tussle escalated into an impromptu wrestling match amid a flurry of fallen autumn leaves. Their fishing poles skidded down the slight incline towards the lake and the two reykr screeched encouragement from a branch overhead.

"Nice try, Thor," Jack said, slipping out of his friend's hold with a decisive shoulder twist. "But if you'd really done your homework, you'd know that my dad was the wrestling coach for the local community college."

"That would only be relevant," Thor said, arms outstretched, stalking towards him with a strangely fluid motion, "were my skills limited to those of your species." And in a movement faster than he could track, Thor struck.

"Ngh!" Jack spat out a moldy leaf. Finding himself pinned face down in the grass, he heaved upwards with no success. "Damnit, Thor, you're crushing my ribs." He needed just a bit more leverage.

"Highly unlikely, Jack. I am not pressing downwards with sufficient force to--gah!"

"So. The Asgard are ticklish, eh?" Jack said smugly, and went after Thor's ribs with both hands. He hadn't felt this lighthearted in a long time.

"Not...ticklish...no," Thor gasped, doing his best hooked fish imitation as he squirmed away from Jack's fingers and towards the base of the tree.

"Really." Jack snickered and increased his assault. "And what do you call thi--Wait. No way!" he said, as the two reykr leapt from their branch and attacked him with what seemed to be a hundred wet tongues and prickling claws. "No fair, Thor. Call'em off."

"I am told that all is fair in love and war, Jack," Thor said breathlessly from his vantage point, crouched beside the tree. He held the back pack in one hand and the tear-shaped crystal in the other.

Love and war?

Jack finally battled the reykr to a stand still and flopped back in the grass beside his friend. "Is that so," he grumbled, wiping the slobber off his face. Aldrnari and Hret scurried up his legs and sat on his chest scolding loudly while he caught his breath. He felt a familiar warm, shivery sensation in the pit of his stomach. "Ouch. I think I'm lying on a rock."

"Had I known you disliked pebbles, Jack, I would have elided them as well." Thor gestured with one hand and the lump beneath Jack's shoulder blade dissolved into a large puddle.

"Great. It's not enough that your friends nearly shred my shirt, but now you decide it's not damp enough." Jack rolled to his side to face his friend and faked a glare.

"I merely wished to be helpful," Thor said in wounded tone, pocketing the crystal.

"Oh yeah. I believe that. Especially after you sicced the local wildlife on me."

"May I plead self defense?" Thor's smile was pure mischief and the heat in Jack's chest flared in response. The sweet ache was familiar. And confusing. It was difficult to find the Supreme Commander of the Asgard Fleet behind the carefree grin and assorted leaves and twigs that adorned his friend's tangled hair.

"No. You may not." Jack hastily climbed to his feet. He ran his fingers through his own hair, dislodging a shower of pine needles. "Now where's my damn pole?"

He found both fishing poles near the water's edge, their lines hopelessly entangled. "Some fishing trip, Thor. I get attacked by rampaging reykr -- courtesy of my host -- and now this. How about using some of that mojo of yours to unsnarl this mess?"

Thor rose gracefully and came to stand close beside Jack. Beneath the clean smell of sweat and crushed grass was something spicy and alien. Exotic. Jack resisted the urge to inhale deeply.

"Here," Thor said, reaching for the poles. "Allow me." His friend deftly untangled the line and returned Jack's pole with a flourish. "And so. No 'mojo' required."

Jack snatched the pole back, reeled in the line and recast. "You do this just to annoy me, don't you."

"Has it worked thus far?" His friend smiled and recast his own line.

Jack shook his head ruefully. "You know, Thor," he said after a pause, "you're positively chatty this morning. Engaging. Animated even. Spilling Asgard secrets right and left. Cracking jokes. Making me eat dirt. If I have known that all it took was a lake and a few fish, well hell, you would have gotten an invite ages ago."

When Thor turned to answer, his voice was soft and he blinked slowly. "Perhaps, Jack," he said, "rather than the setting, it is the company."

They stood shoulder-to-shoulder then, barefoot on the pebbled beach, enjoying the silence and the sunshine, while Jack considered the implications.

Before joining the SGC, he'd led a simple, uncomplicated life. Study and practice hard and you got good grades, won awards. In the field: plan, execute, improvise when necessary, then measure the outcome against the mission objectives. Missions got messy, ugly, and toxic, but afterwards, they could all safely stored in neat, sealed mental boxes. School, service, marriage, promotions, fatherhood: his life had been linear and predictable. He'd followed the rules, for the most part. The one minor complication had been his occasional, and never indulged, attraction to men.

But since Abydos -- since Charlie had died, an inner voice ruthlessly corrected -- failure had been redefined. Success had come to mean something very different than 'Mission objectives exceeded, Sir'. And his life had become infinitely more complicated.

When he'd first passed through the icy, seething waters of the gate he had been prepared to die or to live out the rest of his life in exile, to protect his team and to ensure the security of Earth. He'd accepted the mission, had willingly turned his back on a life that had become intolerable, one in which all love was dead or had become tainted, impossible.

The U. S. Air Force knew its tools well; even those that had been damaged or were heavily worn.

But the frigid passage to Abydos, the world and its people, Skaara, Daniel, had irrevocably transformed him. He'd stepped on the soil of another world, met a people who had forgotten what it meant to be free, watched a double moon set, and thought of Matthew. And had remembered that winter was always followed by spring.

His life and his desires had never been simple again.

In theory, mission reports included each team member's thoughts and feelings, as well as the facts. In practice, the facts prevailed. Despite Daniel and Carter's suspicions, he read every report, often wading through the dense academese with a dictionary or science reference on hand. But like his own, they contained barely more than a recounting of events. Nothing beyond the most terse statements about Shau'ri or Martouf, Drey'ac, Ray'ac, or Skaara, no matter how difficult or harrowing the mission. Dry prose, thickly shellacked with professionalism and detachment. Nothing that might reveal the chaos that twisted through their lives with nearly every trip through the gate.

A thousand tedious hours spent in psych debriefings could never make up for the fact that when they'd opened the gate, they'd thrown away all the rules. There was no handbook for semi- or complete-possession by alien symbiote. Or possession of spouse by said symbiote. No etiquette for working with the mate of ones former possessor. And no platitudes to comfort a close friend over his wife's unwilling infidelity, to console him over a son that was not, but should have been his.

There sure as hell was no convenient guide-book entry to cover his present situation.

He doubted that he would care in any case. Like Matthew years ago, he'd somehow come to violate the rules simply by breathing. And so Jack decided to follow the path he'd trod since returning from Abydos. He listened carefully to his rapidly beating heart, took a single deep breath, and said, "The company? Yeah, Thor. Maybe it is."

He was rewarded with an full-body sensation of warmth and well-being, as well as Thor's brilliant smile.

By the time the yellow sun was high overhead, they'd each caught, and released, a fish a piece. Jack he was getting hungry and he sensed that Thor was becoming restless.

"Bored?"

"Not at all, Jack," Thor said. "Merely wondering if you wished to fish here all day." His voice held an undercurrent of excitement.

Intrigued, Jack reeled in his line and said, "Why? You got something else planned?" "As a matter of fact, yes. I do," his friend said with a slow smile.

Jack narrowed his eyes. "What's going on in that hyper-evolved mind of yours, Thor?"

"Oh, never fear, Jack. I am certain that you will like it. You enjoy sailing, correct?"

Jack set aside his pole and looked his friend in the eye. "Now why do I get the feeling that it's more complicated than that?"

"I can not imagine," Thor said mildly, then collected both poles, folded them in a bizarre, impossible way, and shoved the resulting tangle into his pack. "You have enjoyed our activities thus far, yes?" He jammed the large tackle box in as well, then stood and slung the pack over his shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah. I have." Jack shoved his feet into his Tevas and brushed dirt and grass from his jeans. He gave Thor a long look. His friend's enthusiasm was infectious. "Oh, Alright. Sailing it is," he said. "On one condition."

His friend leaned down and allowed Hret to leap to his shoulder. "Allow me to guess," he said, sounding mildly exasperated. "This condition involves lunch."

"Well, Thor," Jack said. "They do say that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach."

Thor glanced back over his shoulder. "So Major Carter assured me."

Jack stood stunned for a long moment. It was a damn good thing Thor had deleted the bugs. Otherwise he'd have caught more than a few flies by the time he'd collected wits enough to demand an explanation.

*

Damned tight-lipped alien pain-in-the-ass had refused to say another word. They'd tramped through yet more improbable geography for thirty minutes, over paths that rose and yet paradoxically fell, and looped back endlessly upon themselves. But so far, Thor had neatly avoided the topic by waxing poetic about every weird plant, animal, and mineral they'd stumbled across.

"Were you born this annoying?" Jack asked, breaking into Thor's never-ending monologue on some demi-deciduous-crystaline-confirious green and red spiked bush. "Or are you making a special effort. Just for me."

"You expressed interest in the ecology of Alfheim, Jack. I am merely indulging your curiosity."

"Yesterday," he said, pushing aside the fronds of a giant pink and orange frothy fern-thing. "I was curious _yesterday_. And even then, all I wanted to know was, 'Is it gonna eat me?'"

"Better late than never?"

"Did you also memorize a dictionary of quotations before you left home or something?"

"Or something." Thor's eyes gleamed in the dim light beneath the thick forest canopy.

Jack sighed and followed the momentary bane of his existence into narrow gap between two slabs of purple rock. He was forced to turn sideways and suck in his gut, and Aldrnari was forced from his shoulder to a new perch. On top of his head. Wonderful. "You built this place," he complained, trying to scratch at the sweat trickling between his shoulder blades. "Couldn't you have made this trail a little wider?"

"A slight miscalculation," Thor admitted, ducking under a low hanging limb. "I forgot that these...bodies...occupy more space than I am used to."

"Hey. You saying I'm fat?" Jack wiped his face with a corner of his shirt. "Speaking of which, where's my lunch?" He paused as a thought occurred to him, then gave Thor a meaningful look. "And why didn't you just wave your magic rock and poof us down here, anyway?"

Thor laughed. "Surely, Jack, you realize that the journey can be as important as the destination." His friend took the wider left fork on the path that lead steadily downhill. "You remind me of Agaeti," he added. "Nothing would do but for Branrefr and me to move the earth and sky to satisfy her every whim."

"Heaven and earth? All I want is a sandwich. And who are all these people you're talking about?"

"My partners, Jack. Who explored Alfheim with me. Agaeti studied the its atmosphere and other...emergent...non-terrestrial geologic processes. Branrefr's studies focussed on the land itself."

Partners. And here, he'd always felt that most days _one_ wife was nearly more than enough.

"Yeah?" Jack said. He pulled Aldrnari out of his hair and set her back on his shoulder. The forest was growing lighter and steamy; he could hear the thunder of surf and smell salt in the air. "And what about you, Thor? What did you study?"

Dark rich mud on the path had given way to sand littered with shattered white shell, and dried blue-green fronds. Thor paused and took off his sandals, and Jack did the same.

"My area of interest was...biology. Genetic and genetohistorical."

Jack grinned to himself. He couldn't resist. "Should have known," he said. "A whole family of geeks."

"Indeed, Jack." Thor flashed him a grin. "To the nth degree, as you might say. Although none of our children seemed predisposed to follow in our footsteps. Kyrr was particularly disdainful of scientific pursuits. She was most passionate, however, about music."

"Yeah, kids are like that," Jack said. And for once, thinking about Charlie didn't hurt quite so much. "So which one of you was into sailing?"

"All of three of us. In fact, Branrefr and I first met Agaeti during a seasonal lifsiglaskip competition," Thor said. His expression was shadowed for a moment, then he shook his head and smiled. "But here, Jack, we have arrived."

They pushed through the grasping fronds at the trail's end and stepped out onto bright, hot lavender sand.

"Damn, it's bright." Jack squinted and shaded his watering eyes, grinning when Thor silently handed him a pair of sunglasses. Tevas and now Ray-Bans. Martha Stewart aside, the Asgard were up on their human pop accessories.

He donned the shades and looked out across the sand to the turquoise waters beyond. "Holy shit," he breathed softly.

About seventy-five yards offshore, a sleek, graceful ship crouched atop the restless waves as if about to take flight. Double-hulled like a catamaran, at least forty-five feet in length, its brilliant white sail was loosely furled around the single tall mast.

"So," Jack said after a reverent pause. "This the _O'Neill II_?"

He raised his eyebrows when Thor's cheeks reddened.

"Hardly, Jack," his friend said in a low voice. "I would never insult your courage and skill by designating so primitive a craft as your namesake."

He watched as Thor waded out into the shallows and then swam towards the ship, the wet clothing clinging tightly to his body.

"Oh," Jack said, to no one in particular, then followed his friend into the waves.

The water was warm but still refreshing after their long sweaty hike from the lake. To his surprise, the reykr were excellent swimmers. Aldrnari leapt from his shoulder immediately and swam out towards Thor's ship alone, moving as swiftly and smoothly as an otter. Jack followed more slowly, marveling at the design of the Asgard craft as he swam. Its tapered hull looked weightless, impossibly fragile as it rocked placidly in the waves. The sunlight and surf seemed to barely skim its smooth, light gray surface.

Thor leaned over the narrow railing and offered him a hand up. "Welcome aboard the _Vindrvitr_ \-- the Wise Wind, Jack."

Despite the illusion of delicacy, the deck was solid beneath his feet when he took his friend's hand and climbed aboard. Somehow, Thor was now dressed in _dry_ cut-offs and a T-shirt and his hair was tied back with a leather thong. Even Hret and Aldrnari were dry and smugly fluffy. Figured.

Jack squelched across the deck and stared around intently. "Damn, Thor," he said, hands on hips and taking stock of ship, from the length and breadth of the polished, gleaming deck, the soaring height of the mast with its bright sail, to the cleverly recessed cockpit and semi-circular couch that lay just behind the mast. The Asgard had taken the maxim 'form follows function' to its ultimate aesthetic, and damn posh conclusion. "You guys sure know how to live large."

"It is an older model." Thor looked pleased. "But I am -- I was quite fond of it."

"Newer isn't always better," Jack agreed, wondering at his friend's slip. "In fact, if this is old, I'll be happy to take the display model off your hands, no questions asked." He ran one hand along the mast and the other over the main sail, whose strange fabric was cool and shimmered faintly under the hot noon sun. His palm tingled with the contact. "What _is_ this stuff? And where is the rigging?" The sail seemed to cling to the mast itself, without a single line to be seen.

"There is no...rigging...per se, Jack," Thor said as he opened a panel in the deck and adjusted some instrumentation. "The movement of the sail is controlled using other means. The sail and mast are constructed of identical bio-metallic alloys. The sail was simply coaxed to grow in interlocking...sheets, rather than perpendicularly, in elongated cells."

"Bio-what? You mean this sail, this mast are _alive_?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes. As is this entire ship."

"Ya don't say." Jack walked toward the stern to inspect the cockpit. "Does it talk, too?"

"Talk?" His friend laughed softly. "No, Jack, it doesn't talk. The _Vindrvitr_ is not sentient. However," he paused, "it _does_ sing."

"No way," he said, running his fingers lightly over the alien command console. Damn shame he'd never had the chance to learn Asgard, although he could count from one to seven -- lot of good that would do.

"Indeed. I plan to demonstrate later. But first, I did promise to feed you." Thor beckoned him over to the wide, low couch encircling the mast.

Jack looked askance at the blue plush cushions. "Uh, how about some dry clothes first?"

Thor waved his hand once and with a body-wide prickle of static electricity across his skin, Jack's clothing was remade from the inside out. His jeans became cut-offs, his frayed and sweat-and-slobber stained T-shirt became whole again, and his hair was completely dry. Even his underwear felt dry, although he wasn't inclined to check and see at the moment.

Jack whistled. "Forget the weapons technology. I could save a fortune in dry cleaning with that rock of yours."

Another gesture and a plate of sandwiches materialized on one of the cushions, near a cooler full of cold beer. "Relax here for a moment," Thor said, "while I prepare the _Vindrvitr_ for our journey."

Jack shooed Aldrnari and Hret away from the plate, "Get your own damn lunch," then settled on the sofa and bit into one of the sandwiches. "So this baby sings, eh?" Jack said, mumbling around a mouthful of roast beef with a thick slice of tomato, slathered with mustard. Just the way he liked it. A big sandwich, cold bottle of beer, and even a bag of chips. Not bad. But it was still a toss up if he would thank Carter when he got back, or nab the batteries from every damn calculator she owned. "This I gotta see," he said.

"Oh you shall, Jack. As One pilot to another, I promise you that." Thor smiled enigmatically, then descended below deck to continue his preparations.

After Jack finished eating, the wind picked up, ruffling his hair and cooling the sweat on his neck and face. The _Vindrvitr_ swayed gently beneath him and he closed his eyes a moment, leaning into the motion and savoring the primal sensation. Sea birds called to one another in the distance and Aldrnari and Hret had curled up under his hand.

He could be anywhere; the Mediterranean, Lake Tahoe, a quiet Phuket Island lagoon. And yet, against all known laws of logic, he was aboard a space ship orbiting earth, comfortably full from eating a roast beef sandwich that contained no beef, drinking beer whose ingredients had never seen soil or sunlight, on a killer sailboat. Jack smiled. With infinite power at their disposal, it was nice to see that the Asgard had their priorities straight. Who needed inter-galactic domination when you could have paradise instead?

"Enjoying yourself?"

"Mm," Jack agreed. He'd heard Thor approach but hadn't bothered to open his eyes. "You couldn't tell?"

"I had my suspicions." Thor clasped his shoulder briefly then leaned over him, blocking the sun. "Would you like to get underway?"

"Works for me." He sprawled more deeply upon the couch enjoying the warmth of the deck beneath his bare feet and the slight tingle of his skin where Thor had touched him.

"Very well," Thor said with a sigh and departed for the cockpit.

Within moments, the deck began to vibrate softly. He cracked one eye open when he heard three soft chimes followed by a gentle whir, then sat up and stared with slack-jawed amazement as the elliptical sail slowly relinquished its hold on the mast and unfurled itself upon the wind, no strings attached.

"Thor? What the hell!"

As the _Vindrvitr_ picked up speed on a seaward vector, Jack stood and made his way past the mast to the starboard bowsprit. He knelt next to the low railing, pulled off his sunglasses, and squinted up at the enormous shimmering -- and untethered -- sail.

"There is no rigging, Jack," Thor called over the rushing of the wind and waves.

"I can _see_ that! But that doesn't tell me how--"

"Bio--ag--ics." Thor's comment was fractured by the wind.

"What?" he shouted.

"I said--." His friend broke off and gestured him over.

"Biomagnetics," Thor repeated, when Jack joined him in the cockpit. His friend's long fingers splayed and danced nimbly across the controls. "The mast and sail in combination generate a biomagnetic field. The shape of the...sail cloth...reflects the strength and shape of the field and the magnitude of the wind."

Jack sat down heavily in the co-pilot's seat. "Sweet."

"Unlike the sails with which you are familiar, one may manipulate the...planar elasticity...of this lifsigla--living sail, as well."

Thor adjusted a control and the sail expanded slowly to a third again its original size. In response, the ship accelerated and began to lean noticeably to port, the starboard hull barely skimming the water. Up ahead, spray thrown up from their passage, flashed in the sunlight and spattered the foredeck with foam.

"When at speed, the craft itself rides above the waves on a thin membrane of bioelectrical energy generated by the passage of the magnetized hull through the water vapor below."

"No shit," he breathed softly.

Thor's grin held an aura of exhalation. "No shit, indeed."

The lifsigla fluttered briefly, then eerily slid past the bow as his friend tacked back towards shore.

"Did you guys used to race these?"

"Not this model, no. Agaeti designed this lifsiglaskip for recreation, rather than competition." Thor reset the size of the sail and the craft slowed. "Competition craft are--were much smaller, lighter, and were shaped to maximize field strength and...responsivity, rather than comfort." He turned to Jack and smiled. The wind had whipped color into his pale cheeks and his eyes sparkled. "Would you care to try?"

Jack paused, eyes narrowed, his fingers itching to touch the console. "Is this a trick question?" he asked.

Piloting the lifsiglaskip was easier and yet harder than he'd expected. Despite the complexity of the controls, after a short while, their operation seemed intuitive. It was as if he could feel the flex of sail and magnetic field in his finger tips, sense its tension against his skin. He had only to cup the wind in his hands just so, and the _Vindrvitr_ took flight, singing in the clear, exultant voice of speed, water, and sky.

The difficulty lay in Thor's teaching methods. Rather than break the comfortable silence, instead Thor pressed close and corrected the placement of Jack's fingers with a gentle, deliberate touch, that left him warm and shivery inside.

"I take it you're a hands on kinda guy."

"Sometimes, Jack." Thor's breath whispered past his cheek. "A direct approach is best."

Given the throb of his pulse in the pit of his belly, his anatomy seemed inclined to agree.

"So, where to?" he asked by way of diversion. "I'm guessing that you have somewhere particular in mind."

"As it happens, yes." Thor stood for a moment and shaded his eyes, taking a visual siting. "Continue along the shore until you reach the basalt pillars at the entrance to the bay." He pointed towards a set of rocky spires a ways down along the coast. "Then," Thor paused, with a secretive smile, "we shall turn out into the open sea."

And for the next hour, as the sun arced from its zenith to a few degrees past, they sat silently, side-by-side chasing the horizon, sharing the wind and spray on their faces and the exhilarating sensation of near-flight when the _Vindrvitr_ finally achieved skim velocity and rode the mist above the restless waves.

Sitting at the controls, heat from a false double sun on his shoulders, Jack wondered where the line between dream and reality lay when a situation such as this could exist. Whenever he thought he'd learned to roll with the weird, someone -- Harlan, Urgo, and now Thor -- came along to redefine it.

Thor's fingers brushed lightly against his when his friend leaned over and adjusted their heading slightly. "Just a short while longer," he said, pointing to the chain of cloud-shrouded islands that lay directly ahead.

As they approached, it became clear that the clouds were actually smoke and ash billowing up from jagged volcanic peaks. The plumes nearest their tops glowed dull orange and streams of gold and red lava flowed down their craggy sides to steam in the crashing waves below.

"Magnificent, is it not?" Thor commented.

"Yeah." And deadly. He'd once hiked up the side of Mt. Kilauea, the active volcano on Hawaii's Big Island. It had been hot, thrilling, and treacherous. He wasn't eager to repeat the experience. "We headed there?" he asked, nonetheless fascinated by the destructive display.

"Not exactly," Thor said. "Here, allow me." His friend took the controls and guided their craft northwest towards small mound-shaped island. About a mile out, Thor dampened the field and the lifsigla fluttered once, then dove inwards towards the mast, embracing it tightly.

"So. This is it, huh?" Jack said, rocking back in the pilot's chair. "Nice. Uh. View."

"I suppose so, Jack. But the view is not why we are here." Thor briefly clasped his shoulder and rose from his seat. "Come on."

"Come on where?" All four directions held only water, volcanoes, or more water.

"Down below," Thor said. Now standing on deck, he had removed his shirt and was skinning out of his shorts. Jack tried not to notice that his friend's human guise was anatomically correct. Rather impressively so. "To Atlantis," Thor said, grinning, then dove cleanly over the side.

"Atlantis?" Jack leaned over the side and waited for his friend to surface. "Thor, what the hell are you talking about?"

"Well, not Atlantis exactly, Jack," Thor called up when he broke the surface. "But a place very much like it. Dive in. I will show you."

Standing at the railing, staring down at his friend treading water Jack had a strong sense of deja vu.

"Oh, what the hell," he muttered, and stripped out of his own clothing. "Where ever we're going had better be close. I can only hold my breath for so long," he said, and jumped in. This far from shore, the water was cooler but not uncomfortably so.

"We have a long way to go," Thor said, swimming up beside him. "Several thousand...feet, in fact. But there is certainly no need to hold your breath."

Several _thousand_. "Uh. Tanks? Tanks would be good."

"Breathing equipment is not necessary." Thor swam behind him and Jack felt a strong arm wrap around his chest as Thor's body pressed against his. "When we submerge, inhale deeply."

Inhale?! Jack clamped his hand over Thor's forearm. "A couple million years of evolution says this is a bad idea."

He thought that Thor might have said, "Trust me," but by then his friend had dragged him twenty feet under, Jack was out of air, and had no choice but to inhale.

With the first panicked breath, fear burned his lungs like acid, harsh and rasping. With the second, he felt a cooling and implacable impression of the words "Let go." Desperate to trust, he opened himself to the rippling liquid around him, coughing with surprise when cool, sweet air flowed into his lungs instead.

Thor's arms tightened around him briefly and then he was released. When Jack turned and tried to speak, his voice was flat and oddly muffled. Thor pressed two fingers against Jack's lips and shook his head. His long hair had become unbound and waved gently around his head like a sea anemone. In lieu of speech, his friend gestured for Jack to follow, then in a flash of lean pale limbs, he arced gracefully towards the ocean floor.

More accustomed to leading, Jack wondered why following Thor around for the past day didn't chafe. Bemused, he watched his friend for a moment before following him into the depths.

Thick schools of small colorful fish yielded to larger, much more bizarre creatures as he swam steadily downwards. The sea's slick resistance against his skin and limbs, it's salty flavor, contrasted oddly with its early morning, high-mountain clarity when he inhaled.

By the time his brain and body could agree that breathing was a good idea, they'd descended several hundred feet, and the ocean had become cooler, darker, and heavier. Thor paused and turned, waiting for Jack to catch up. His friend smiled and clasped his hand, looking out into the murky distance. Jack had the impression of waiting.

Within moments the ocean vibrated as if an enormous bell had been struck. He squeezed Thor's hand tightly as waves of sensation pounded over and through him, filling his body with a crazy exhilaration. Wide-eyed, he watched as a large shape swiftly approached them out of the murky depths. Sonar, he realized, as the powerful inaudible _sound_ rang through him again. From something huge. All too aware of his nakedness, he wished for a more potent weapon than Thor's assurances.

'On Alfheim, there be dragons,' he thought vaguely, as he stared into the slitted, dinner-plate sized eye of the creature. He could see his own stunned expression clearly in the reflection from its golden eye. Easily one and a half times the length of the _Vindrvitr_, as big around as a redwood, the sleekly scaled, jewel-toned beast undulated like an enormous water snake, radiating heat. And deadliness. Muted sunlight glinted off the ivory of its talons.

Thor swam to its head, stroking the elongated snout and the shaggy green and blue tendrils that streamed like kelp from the powerful jaws. The creature's eyes slid shut and the ocean around them rumbled. Purring!

"_Vatnandi_." Thor's voice was barely more than a tight whisper.

Tentatively, he ran his palm along the flexible-spined neck, surprised by the smoothness, savoring the warmth. He smiled when like Thor, he was rewarded by a pleased rumble. Further along its length, he noticed a harness rigged between two widely spaced spine ridges. Thor climbed astride the vatnandi, wrapping his hands through the harness straps, and Jack gingerly followed suit, wishing he'd kept on his shorts. Without an obvious place for his hands, Jack wrapped his arms around Thor's waist instead. He reflexively tightened his grip when the vatnandi tensed, piked sharply, then swiftly bore them downwards. His ears popped twice as they descended. When he yawned to equalize the pressure, cold salty water filled his mouth only to bubble and evaporate against his palate before he could swallow. Despite their increasing depth, the shell of warmth from the vatnandi and Thor's human skin kept him from shivering. To avoid the lash of Thor's hair in his face, Jack pressed close to his friend, thankful that the water was still cool enough to qualify as a cold shower. As the water flashed over his skin, he wanted to shout from the odd, but now familiar pressure of doubled exhilaration that pounded beneath his heart.

The vatnandi changed course, veering into the canyon directly ahead, and the jagged mountains rose around them like broken teeth. Thor gestured towards the leftmost cliff face and Jack gasped. Ivory white structures some cracked and crumbling, others with gaping circular openings intact, clung to the cliff. As they swept past, the mountains rumbled, their cliff-side vents belching smoke, and an avalanche of dark and light rock tumbled down the sheer face into the hidden depths of the trench below.

They skimmed the upper levels of the canyon then rose up over its steeply sloping right-hand rim. Gradually, the rocky terrain leveled out into a broad plain dotted with hummocks. The vatnandi swept past a number of the strange mounds before elongating and arrowing towards a crumpled barrow whose interior glowed faintly as they approached. Eventually, he could see that the mound was not natural, rather it was an immense sediment-covered dome. Despite the incredible scale, he reflexively ducked as the vatnandi slipped through a crack in its ceiling and swam through the vague twilight towards its unseen floor.

As they descended, the water became clearer, less dense and Jack could make out layer upon striped layer sediment laid down atop the dome over the millennia. They passed a thick layer of white and then they were through its ceiling. The sourceless light intensified around them revealing intricate carvings and jutting statuary on the distant walls.

A short distance from the ornate tile inlay floor, the vatnandi halted and Thor shifted out of his grasp to dismount. Jack followed, sliding over the vatnandi's tail to the floor to stand in the creature's wavering shadow. He watched amazed, as at the flick of Thor's fingers, the beast departed, drawing the ocean upwards in a rippling wave to reveal an expanding bell of dry air below.

"Holy shit," Jack said, then winced as the sound carried too well within the huge chamber. He felt like the poor country cousin as he slowly turned in a circle and gaped. The dome arced at least five hundred feet above their heads, spanning a room that could probably swallow an aircraft carrier. Even for a modern man, familiar with skyscrapers and vaulted cathedrals, the tremendous scale was nearly beyond imagining. "Thor. Where the hell _are_ we?"

"Where?" His friend was looking around distractedly. "_Hoel Saerfornandi_."

Jack waited for a moment for Thor to continue then said, "Right," when no response was forthcoming. He crossed his arms over his chest and suppressed a shiver; despite the relative warmth, his skin and hair were wet and it was still cool. After a significant pause, he waved his hand in front of his friend's face. "Hel-lo. More heat or more clothes. Pick one?"

With Thor's single absent-minded gesture, Jack's naked skin prickled with static electricity and their clothing reappeared in a sparkling flash. To his relief his skin and hair were dry and the air had become warmer.

"So-o." Jack grinned. "Where'd you hide the rock?"

But his friend didn't laugh or answer. In fact, Thor was standing in the middle of the floor slowly scanning the debris-littered chamber. He looked small standing beneath the vast dome, almost frail. And lost.

"Hey." Jack touched his friend's shoulder. "Everything okay?"

Thor turned suddenly and Jack thought he caught the glimmer of _something_ in his friend's dark eyes before it was rapidly blinked away. "Oh yes, Jack. Everything is fine. I am just...getting my bearings."

"Okay." Jack frowned but didn't push it. "About this Hoel Saer-thing?"

"Yes, yes." Thor nodded, then started across the chamber towards a large heap of dull, whitish rock that lay near one shadowy corner. "Hoel Saerfornandi," he said absently. "The dwelling place of the sea spirits. Or so we--Branrefr and I--named it."

Jack resisted the urge to say, "Yeah, and...?" and trailed behind Thor instead with a growing sense of unease. Without a mission plan, he tried to play scientist for a while, scanning the hall, noting the huge white pillars that soared towards the ceiling, the thick carved vines that twined around their girth. Daniel would have found a million items of note by now, from the pattern of the floor tiles to the number of degrees of arc of the dome. He had enough engineering knowledge to wonder how the dome could bear the weight of the layers of rock above it. But otherwise, no matter how hard he squinted or imagined, he couldn't fathom the secrets held by the ruined building.

Up close, the crumbled rock mound revealed itself to be the remains of an enormous sculpture. Large chunks had been crushed by falling debris when a portion of the dome above had given way. To his unpracticed eye, it seemed that long ago, two clawed and fanged creatures -- dragons? -- had twined around one another, forming a pedestal, perhaps for a fountain. All that remained were the teeth and talons, a two-foot long gleaming obsidian eye, and the sensuous, suggestive shape of their embrace.

Thor reached up and stroked the ornately carved scales on a bit of the crumbled stone. "These ruins, the other dwellings we uncovered, significantly predate Asgard civilization. By hundreds of thousands of years," he said. "Despite their apparent simplicity, we believe--believed them to belong to a star-faring race."

"A race of giants," he breathed. "Dragons."

"Indeed. The fossils we located are--were quite sizeable. And bore a resemblance to the dragons of human mythology. Their size was unusual, although not unprecedented, given the gravity of Alfheim in that eon."

Jack hefted a chunk of the shattered sculpture in his hand, running his fingers over the intricate carved scale. The detail was so extraordinary that he could trace the delicate lattice of veins.

"Danny would kill to see this place."

His friend brushed his fingers over smooth, reflective surface of the dragon's dark eye. "No doubt. The existence of these ruins would greatly...complicate...some of the theories that Dr. Jackson likely holds regarding human mythology and evolution."

"Oh yeah?" He figured it couldn't hurt to ask. "How so?"

Thor regarded him steadily and silently, one eyebrow raised.

"Oh, fine. Be that way about it," Jack said. "Tease."

"I am certain that I don't know what you mean, Jack." His friend smiled, but his heart didn't seem to be quite into it.

"Thor--?" he said again, but his friend had turned away, abandoning the sculpture in favor of a jumble of thick, five-foot long metal plates.

"When we first arrived, Alfheim appeared to be largely uninhabited. A few sparsely populated...pastoral societies were clustered, here and there, along the banks of rivers, near the coasts. But nothing that would indicate advanced scientific knowledge."

His friend slowly skirted the pile then crouched in front of one of the corroded plates. "We wouldn't have even realized the ruins were here, had not Branrefr's deep planetary survey revealed formations on the sea floor that were too regular to be entirely organic."

Head bowed, Thor cleared his throat twice. "Do you realize, Jack," he said finally. "That in a few thousand years this structure, like the others on this plain, will slide into the trench. To be consumed by the forces of tectonic subduction."

"No. I didn't realize," he said. "How many is a few?"

His friend traced a row of spidery hieroglyphs with slightly trembling fingers. "Perhaps two, perhaps four. This region was extremely geologically active, you see."

Jack did the math, considered Thor's faulty grammar, and thought that he was beginning to; his chest ached with its certainty.

They knelt together in silence for a moment. Close enough that Jack could feel the wave of heat off his friend's skin and hear the hitch of Thor's inhalations as he struggled to breathe evenly. Jack ran his fingers over the pitted tablet.

"What does it say?" he asked carefully.

Thor brushed off his hands then stood, turning away. "I do not know, Jack," he said. His voice was scarcely a whisper, but the bare blade of its grief sliced deep. "We did not have time to decipher it. This is as far as Branrefr were and I were able to explore together. Before the Goa'uld arrived."

"Tell me," he said softly, standing to place his hand on Thor's shoulder.

His friend took the tear-shaped Osk'Dreyma crystal from his pocket and thumbed its smooth milky surface. "There is nothing much to tell," he said, looking at his hands. "We were a small, very remote outpost. Far from Asgard holdings, lightly armed. Equipped for exploration, not stealth or battle. With only uncertain...unreliable allies nearby. After so long, we grew careless." He clenched his fist around the stone.

"And you never went back."

"Our treaties with the Goa'uld System Lords forbid it," Thor said bleakly. "And, in truth, Jack. As you know, we can never go back. Only forward."

"Yeah. But still." When Jack closed his hand over his friend's fist, the savage, wintry ache in his chest eased.

"But still," Thor agreed. He closed his eyes for a long moment, then shook his head. "I am truly sorry, Jack. I only thought to show you the ruins here, the fossils, what my bakki--what Branrefr believed to be the space craft. I did not expect--" his voice wavered and faded.

"You didn't expect it to hurt so much," Jack said, smiling to ease the sting of his words.

His friend's eyes widened with sudden realization. "No," he said ruefully. "I did not. After all, it was a long time ago."

Two thousand years, and yet. "Never long enough to forget to not do it again," Jack said, and was rewarded with a true smile from his friend.

"We love and then lose those we love. Again and again," Thor said, covering Jack's hand with his own. "But the rewards of love, like those of friendship, necessitate risk."

The hand Jack held was long-fingered, broad-palmed, and warm to the touch; the antithesis of how he remembered Thor's hand to be. The transformation still amazed him. When Thor brushed his thumb across his knuckles, he felt as if a mild electrical current flowed through their joined hands and into his heart.

"Enough mushy stuff," he said, grinning. "Where's this ship you guys found?"

Thor's laugh rang out brightly, his tilted eyes crinkling at the corners. "Follow me, then and you will see," he said. Jack had no choice but to tag after him again; Thor hadn't released his hand.

There were numerous smaller chambers off the main hall and his tour guide dragged him through every damp, rock-choked one of them. Jack patiently ran his fingers along giant rib bones and skulls that poked from the walls of narrow passage ways, peered into deep pits that contained shattered metallic remnants, and crouched beside huge claw tracks that Thor claimed contained enough fragmentary, fossilized DNA for he and his partner to construct a physical model of the saerfornandi.

But after an embarrassingly brief time, he gave up trying following Thor's excited narrative and simply enjoyed seeing this hidden side of his usually reserved friend unfold. An aspect that Jack suspected that Thor hadn't revealed for a very long time.

"Wouldn't you agree, Jack?" Thor was asking, holding up a foot-long talon.

Jack blinked, caught flat-footed. "Uh, yeah. Sure. Uh-huh." He'd been far more interested in the slightly wet curve of his friend's lips, the deftness and grace of his fingers, than in the genetic components of some long dead lizard's toe nails.

"Oh, indeed," Thor said. "And to think, Branrefr considered my common-origin theory for humans and the saerfornandi to be far fetched."

"Okay, okay. So I wasn't exactly paying attention."

"Jack." His friend's sly smile left no doubt that Thor knew exactly where Jack's attention had been focussed. "And I thought you were a historian."

"I like history just fine," he said. "I just don't like it quite so. Well. _Dead_ is all."

They looked at one another for a moment then laughed.

"Very well," Thor said, climbing to his feet and offering Jack a hand up. "I won't test your patience any further. Let me show you the craft. Then we can return to the surface."

Jack took the outstretched hand and stood. "What's the rush? Aren't there are a couple more rocks we should look under first?"

He wasn't surprised when Thor poked him sharply in the ribs.

A narrow corridor led into a vast damp cavern where gap-toothed stalactites leered from the ceiling like a thousand fangs. Pools of inky water gleamed like mirrors in the dim lighting. Thor gestured fluidly and the light intensified, revealing the furthest wall of the cave.

For a long moment, Jack stared, struggling to make sense of what he saw. An immense midnight shadow rippled against the wall, defying his mind's need to pin it down, make it stationary, to insist that it was physically present and real.

"Whoa," Jack said, and slowly approached the shadow.

"Careful." Beside him, Thor stretched out his hand to _stroke_ the inky shape that extended into space _less than a foot away_.

"My god," he whispered. A few more feet and he would have impaled himself. He ran his own fingers along its cool, slippery surface. It seemed to run away from his palm just as its image had skimmed away from his eyes, tricking them into seeing two dimensions rather than three.

"It is slightly more easy to see when one enhances the ultraviolet spectrum." Thor gestured and Jack was just able to make out the shape of the long, elegant wedge that arced into the cavern from the rock face.

"Branrefr named it the _Gandreith_, the Sorcerer's...Chariot."

"A ghost ship," Jack muttered, and carefully followed the edge of the fin with his fingers, back towards its origin in the reddish rock of the cave. "Talk about stealth. You can barely even _feel_ the thing, let alone see it." He climbed up on a slippery boulder and knocked lightly on the wedge. His knuckles slid off the side twice and it swallowed the sound on the third try. "How big is it? What's it made of?"

"This fragment extends approximately nine hundred and thirty feet into the rock face."

"Fragment?" He swung around. "You mean, this is just a small piece?"

Thor nodded. "It is. We discovered twenty three other fragments of significantly greater size within a short distance from this cavern. Our models suggested that they belonged to the same craft." His friend stroked the tip of the wedge lightly, wearing a wistful expression. "As for the material, it is an unusual combination of elements. Very difficult to detect. Unknown to your scientists. Preliminary scans detected...signatures indicating that the components had been exposed to interstellar energies."

"Huh." Jack jumped down from the boulder and joined his friend. "An invisible ship for giant lizards. Incredible."

"We thought so, yes," Thor said softly as he stroked the purple-limned edge of the wedge.

"God, I want one of these babies! Can we see inside?"

His friend's expression grew shadowed. "I only have--had the most preliminary data, Jack. We were caught--there was no time for an in depth investigation. Or detailed analysis." Thor closed his eyes for a moment. "But, if you give me a moment, I can prepare a recreation of the craft as it might have been."

Jack studied his friend's profile in the dim light; his curiosity was quenched by compassion. "Nah. We should probably get going," he said. "Right?"

Thor was silent a long time while he gently ran his finger tips along the ship's fin. "As you wish, Jack," he said, finally. And gratefully, Jack thought, rubbing at his breastbone.

His friend looked around the cavern a final time and then with a wave of his hand, the shadow vanished. He slowly led the way back to the first chamber without a backwards glance. Jack stared back into the darkened passage for a moment wishing that he were better able to do the same.

Back in the great room, he waited patiently while Thor circled the chamber twice, touching the shattered artifacts, one by one; allowing his silent presence to comfort, to ease the ache, that words could never assuage.

"You know," Thor said quietly, coming to stand beside Jack. He still thumbed the crystal as if it were a worry stone. "Even now, it is difficult to believe that it is all gone."

At Thor's gesture, the water slowly descended from above. Wavering shadows played across the floor, over their faces as the water slowly descended from above and the vatnandi slithered through the gash in the ceiling to meet them.

"Yes. I know." What else could he say? All his loves -- those he'd dared act upon -- had ended abruptly somehow, their entwined lives severed from his well before their time.

Thor turned to him, body suddenly tense, eyes fierce, bright with pain and some unnamed emotion. "But, at least--" he said fiercely, then broke off.

The water was already lapping at their foreheads. "At least what?"

"At least they have been...avenged," Thor said in a dark, feral voice. And it was suddenly easy to remember that the seemingly gentle Asgard had a dark past. That this man -- who had exclaimed over a bundle of old, dried bones, who had tickled and teased him -- was also a warrior.

Jack felt a deep, nearly savage satisfaction at Thor's words. "Who--?" he asked.

But Thor shook his head. "I cannot say, Jack," he said, moments before the salty ocean closed over their heads.

Jack reached for the vatnandi's harness strap as it floated past; he hadn't really expected an answer. But his friend surprised him. Gently taking Jack's face in his hands, Thor pressed their foreheads together. Reflexively, he closed his eyes then gasped as painfully vivid images burst behind them: windswept sand and searingly blue skies; the stark silhouette of a pyramid, its sides pitted and worn; the pale ivory bones of a double moon against the noon day sky.

And when he opened his eyes again, when he could see past the dazzle, his friend was smiling.

**5.**

"And you wait, keep waiting for that one thing  
which would infinitely enrich your life:  
the powerful, uniquely uncommon,  
the awakening of dormant stones,  
depths that would reveal you to yourself."  
\--Remembrance, Rainer Maria Rilke

He'd heard it described as a thunderbolt. A lightning-bright spasm of insight. Epiphany: the ah-ha moment when scattered fragments resolved magically, into a coherent, revelatory whole. And over the years he'd seen the after effects on the faces of others often enough: joy and stunned amazement, glassy eyes and slightly parted lips.

Daniel seemed especially prone, as did Carter. After hours or days spent crouched and frowning over glyphs on a broken tablet, scribbles on a chalk board, or broken artifacts, Daniel would straighten suddenly, body taut, and mutter, "Of _course_!" To the entire team's amusement, Carter was far less reserved.

Perhaps it was his lack of science gene, but he rarely experienced that sharp, sudden awareness. Instead of fireworks and marching bands, he usually experienced a gradual unfolding, cell-deep, into knowledge.

The morning had been still, barely a shiver disturbing the mirrored skin of the lake on the day he'd first truly _known_ love. Fresh from his swim, skin reddened from the water's chill and hair damply curling around his neck, Matt had sat beside him beneath their tree, turned to face him, and Jack had fully _known_. The sweet ache in his chest when they touched, the inner shiver whenever Matt smiled at him, all of it had made sense then, straight to the marrow of his bones. In a quiet way, as if he'd always known, and only right then found the right words. Or had only just remembered.

Over the years, the pattern had held and he'd learned to trust the inner sense of order that lay beneath his conscious awareness. It had saved his life, and those of his teammates, more than once in the field, and had led him to unforgettable relationships, friends.

Like Thor.

Late one night, not long after he'd returned from the covert mission to discover and eliminate the rogue, off-world SG unit, Daniel had asked him the inevitable, tangled question: "Why?"

They were both sprawled on Daniel's floor comfortably full and way past drunk on the steak and beer he'd brought as a peace offering. It was late. The CD had long since played out and the breeze seeping around the edges of the patio door tasted of false dawn. They had gone past the awkward first silences -- Daniel's struggle between deeply personal hurt and professional understanding, and Jack's own gnawing guilt over the required act of betrayal that even now made his stomach ache -- and had moved on through a less strained evening of companionship and bad TV. But when the beer was gone, Daniel had pulled out a bottle of well-aged whiskey and the evening had gotten intense. He really should have left hours ago, back when the smokiness of Daniel's eyes, the flex of muscle under his faded U of Chicago T-shirt hadn't been quite so noticeable.

Now, the coffee table had been pushed aside, the bottle was nearly empty, and he and Daniel lay on their backs on the floor fingers tightened in the pile of the carpet to keep the room from spinning. And in his own case, to also keep himself from blurting something monumentally stupid.

"I know why, Jack." Daniel rolled to his side and fixed Jack with an intense, bleary-eyed stare. "But, what I want to know is _why_ why," he said, with impeccable drunken logic.

Jack thumped the back of his head on the floor. On the surface, the 'why' was easy: to preserve key strategic alliances, they had to shut down the rogues. But there were deeper whys lurking inside Daniel's question with a couple of hows thrown in for good measure: Why did you agree to it? How could you cut us out? Why did _they_ ask for _you_?

Once it would have been easy, or perhaps easier, to recite the party line -- greater good, fate of the planet -- and to bury his guilt and remorse deep, in twin, unmarked graves. But he and his team, he and Daniel, had transformed into something beyond a military unit. Even after one hundred days, his team hadn't forgotten, hadn't given him up for dead; he owed his friends an explanation.

"You hate the Tollans."

Jack sighed. "Hate is such a strong word."

"It's the one that fits."

"It was my _job_," he said without a hope in hell that Daniel would let it slide.

"Don't bullshit me, Jack."

And so, after carefully letting the issue slide around the edges of his mind for few weeks, he'd been forced to really _think_ through the whys and hows. Then explain it to Daniel. Yet more good reasons to rip Maybourne's heart out and feed it to him one steaming hunk at a time.

The Tollans had been predictably smug and superior. "We expected this. The Tau'ri are far too primitive, too impetuous to be trusted." The Nox were nicer, more tactful about it but the subtext had been the same. In contrast, Thor had seemed strangely unconcerned despite his threat to end their alliance. "Colonel O'Neill will apprehend the thieves and recover the stolen technology," he'd said serenely, as if the outcome were never in question.

When Hammond suggested a joint operation, all five representatives had insisted that the SGC, in the words of one Tollan ambassador, "Clean up its own ethical messes." She seemed to expect, relish even, their failure.

He'd been on the verge of telling them all what they could do with their arrogant-bastards-of-the-galaxy entrance exam when Thor held up his hand.

"General Hammond," he'd said, looking directly at Jack. "I insist that you send Colonel O'Neill. Alone. He will succeed."

Everyone had quieted instantly. The Tollans looked suddenly suspicious, the Nox secretly amused, and Thor's expression was as bland as potato bread.

Pinned by six curious, suspicious, or openly hostile stares, Jack had felt like an ant caught by a bored kid with a magnifying glass. "What? Do I have spinach stuck in my teeth?" he'd said, secretly warmed by Thor's faith while privately savoring the fierce, illicit thrill of a possible high-stakes mission.

Hammond and the Tollans were not amused, the Nox were as enigmatic as always, but he'd thought he caught a slight twitch at the corner of Thor's mouth.

"Earth to Jack." Daniel whacked his shoulder. "Planning to answer sometime this century?"

"Not gonna cut me a break here, are you Danny?"

Silence.

"Right. Didn't think so," Jack muttered, sitting up and scrubbing his face with his hands. "Look," he said, turning to face his friend. "For what it's worth, it wasn't personal. Given Teal'c's history, he could have been compromised. Carter too, since she hosted Jolinar -- total unknown quantity there. Besides, Teal'c would never have been recruited. Maybourne would've just disappeared him into a lab somewhere."

"So what about me?" Daniel sat up and wrapped his arms around his knees.

"What _about_ you, Danny?"

"Am I compromised somehow, too?"

"Daniel." Jack exhaled heavily. "You're an excellent scientist. Brilliant even. But you do not have, and never will have the skills needed to complete that kind of mission." Thank god.

"Not to mention that I'm compromised."

"You had motive and opportunity." Jack carefully did not mention Sha'uri. "Not to mention the knowledge to figure out how all the stuff we brought back works."

"And you don't?"

"For crying out loud! I don't read, write, and speak sixteen different flavors of snake. It wasn't an honor, Daniel. I didn't raise my hand and say, 'Pick me, Monty!' It was unpleasant, dangerous, and necessary. Three things I happen to be good at."

"And Thor insisted." Daniel's voice sounded odd.

Jack frowned. "Yeah. He did."

"Well shit." His friend flopped back on the floor and stared at the ceiling. "What is it with you, anyway? The Asgard -- the most powerful guys in the galaxy -- like you. And who do I get? Apophis. Seth. _Hathor_."

"You're cuter than I am," he said, and dodged the half-hearted swing Daniel aimed in his direction.

"Oh yeah? Says who?" Daniel eyed him speculatively and Jack's heart gave a single painful leap.

He lay back on the rug and covered his eyes deciding that he was far too drunk and exhausted to continue the conversation. "I'm not even going there Danny. So forget about it."

"You know, Jack." Daniel shifted close enough that Jack could feel his body heat and smell the whiskey on his breath. "I don't know much about Asgard culture. But if Thor were human, I'd say that his interest in you was quite a bit more personal than political."

Jack didn't bother to open his eyes. "You, Daniel Jackson, are a sick, sick man," he said, wondering why Daniel's suggestion seemed neither surprising or particularly distasteful.

At the time, he'd chalked it up to too much beer and way too much whiskey. Not to mention exhaustion and sleep deprivation. But now -- lying on the warm deck of the _Vindrvitr_, eyes closed and Thor's improbably human toes lightly brushing against the sole of his left foot -- Jack knew better.

"You were never going to tell me, were you."

The deck canted slightly and shivered as the _Vindrvitr_, now on autopilot, altered its course. He could feel its rotation in the pit of his stomach; damned amazing illusion. A fine spray of mist cooled his face, in marked contrast to the heat of the double suns slipping towards the ocean behind them. After the dark passage up from the secrets on the sea floor, the warmth and airy freedom was welcome.

"Technically, I still have not." Beside him Thor sounded utterly relaxed and unconcerned, as if unaware of the slight, but electric, movement of his foot against Jack's bare skin.

"Let me guess. You squeezed in a law degree in the last few thousand years. Somewhere between the science and your stint as Supreme Commander."

His friend's laugh was light, free of shadows. "Politics, Jack. As you may have suspected."

"Like you care, Thor. You've been letting politics and treaties go hang for the past day. Don't think I haven't noticed." 'And that I haven't appreciated it', he added silently, glancing over at his friend.

"Oh, be assured that I care, Jack," Thor said, then rolled to his side and sat up. As he did so, the side of his foot briefly slid along Jack's shin, scattering internal sparks in its wake that disappeared when he stood. "But in this place, this time, I have chosen to...relax...the constraints somewhat."

Jack went still. For me, he thought wonderingly, all of it: the incredible, impossible melding of two deeply memorable times, places from each of their lives. And most significantly, a priceless gift of knowledge and friendship. He smiled helplessly as the heat in his chest spread outward to his fingers and toes and suffused his face with what he suspected was an incandescent warmth.

"What? Even supreme galactic commanders need an occasional day off?" he asked, taking Thor's pro-offered hand. The heat flared anew when their palms touched.

"Yes," his friend agreed softly. "It has been far too long. Sometimes, I believe that that we all yearn to...take a moment out of time."

Thor didn't release his hand when Jack stood and they faced one another, legs braced against the sway of the ship, across a slight distance that seemed to shrink with every breath. Their eyes met and held for a long moment while Jack considered: the shiver that began low in his belly and rapidly angled downwards, the sensual rhythm of the ship beneath his feet, the sunlight on the water as reflected in Thor's eyes. And the message that seemed to lie just beneath the surface of his friend's words, like the glitter of coins in a fountain.

Although the movement seemed to take an enormous effort, he took one slow step forward and then another, until their elbows bent and his knuckles brushed against Thor's chest; his friend was nearly close enough to kiss.

"We're not just talking vacations here. Are we?" His voice was hoarse and he swallowed hard.

Thor glanced at their clasped hands then tilted his head. "I will leave that for you to decide, Jack," he said slowly. "Later. First, I must manually guide the _Vindrvitr_ the rest of the way home. Will you join me?"

They stood in silence for a moment more then Jack nodded and Thor released his hand, leading the way to the cockpit.

Jack swatted the reykr out of their chairs and settled into the copilot's seat. The double suns hung low in the sky behind them, gilding every surface of _Vindrvitr_ in turquoise and rose gold. Ahead, the purple cliffs along the coast rose steadily from the waves as Thor deftly guided the craft towards the two giant rock sentries that stood guard over the bay.

'A moment out of time', he thought turning his face into the stiff, swirling crosswind as the _Vindrvitr_ rode the choppy surf between the two guardians. A day and night of relaxation, exploration, and revelation. With another day yet to come. Precious, stolen hours that would be held close, off the record.

It didn't surprise him that his thoughts turned to first to Matthew and then to Daniel as he considered Thor's offer and the magnitude of his gift. After all, 'Carpe Diem' was advice that he still struggled to take on his own behalf.

After a while he gave up on the tangle of his thoughts and feelings and studied Thor's profile instead. He watched in silence as his friend piloted their phantom ship over equally illusory waves, seemingly engrossed in the unnecessary but clearly pleasurable task.

As if aware of Jack's attention, Thor turned to him suddenly and called, "Almost there! We'll be home soon," over the rush of their passage.

His friend's smile was open and uncomplicated as if they were truly just two close friends, growing closer, out for a day's sail beneath a waning summer sky. If ever an imbalance had lay between them -- Thor's intimate knowledge of his life, the inescapable differences of politics, biology and culture -- it had unexpectedly and inexplicably dissolved.

"Soon?" Jack was surprised by the roughness of his voice. "Or not soon enough." He couldn't help but grin when Thor's eyes widened and his jaw went slack.

By the time they'd sailed into the lagoon and anchored the _Vindrvitr_, the golden sun had slid beneath the waves and the blue-white disk hesitantly kissed the horizon. Jack slipped over the side first and swam towards the beach. When the water was shallow enough, he turned and held his hand out to Thor.

"Ready?" Jack said, more to himself than to his friend. When their hands touched he laced their fingers together.

It was too dark to discern his features but Jack caught the unmistakable flash of white teeth when his friend smiled.

*

Later that evening he and Thor huddled together beneath a large blanket, just above the high tide mark. Along with the evening stars, sunset had brought with it a stiff breeze off the water. When he'd begun to shiver, Thor had dressed them both in jeans and thick sweaters then lit a small driftwood bonfire that sparked and flickered in rainbow colors from the dried salt.

Jack dug his toes into the cool sand and settled more comfortably against the basalt slab at his back. Beside him, Thor leaned against his shoulder, knees drawn up, gazing silently into the fire.

They'd eaten dinner on the beach -- an old-fashioned clam bake -- sharing quiet conversation, a little teasing and laughter, and the occasional brief, not-so-casual touch. Ordinary and unimportant exchanges made meaningful by the words they didn't quite say aloud.

"For a guy who thinks that meat is immoral you boil up a mean pot of clams," Jack had said, licking his fingers and adding another shell to the growing pile in the sand.

Thor, who'd opted for a salad, winced. "Only for you, Jack," he'd said shaking his head. "Only for you."

An off-hand remark but Jack had inhaled sharply nonetheless. Again, there were no internal fireworks, nothing to distinguish this moment from any other. Only the languid sensation of unfolding, a deepening awareness of all that lay between them now, of what he'd unknowingly begun on Abydos, long before he had met Thor or heard of the Asgard.

Thor leaned forward and tossed a few more wave-smoothed branches into the fire. He poked at it until it flared anew before leaning back against the rock and shifting deeper into the folds of the blanket. The firelight painted his friend's skin in shades of red and gold, softening his features but deepening the mystery. Jack's fingers yearned to trace the path of the flames along the edge of Thor's jaw, but he clenched them in the sand instead; after twenty-five years, the habit of restraint was strong.

In the years since Matt's death, he had rarely looked at or touched another man intimately. Until now. Assuming that Thor could be said to fit the definition. Regardless, he'd never sullied Matt's memory, had never explained away their love as an accident or youthful experimentation, although he'd known countless other men who would have.

His sins had been of omission.

True, he'd never denied Matt's love, but then he'd never given anyone the opportunity to ask. What had begun as the silence of discretion and grief ultimately became habit; he'd never offered the pain and sweetness of that memory to anyone. Rachel Lowry may have suspected, but only Thor knew for certain. The bizarre and literally cosmic nature of the irony made him smile.

He must have made a sound because Thor turned to him quizzically.

Rather than respond, Jack focused instead upon overcoming decades of resistence, on the reluctant movement of his arm and flex of his hand, and finally upon the smooth arch of his friend's cheek beneath his thumb.

"Jack?" Thor queried softly, eyes nearly closed and lips slightly parted.

There were SGC rules prohibiting what he now contemplated; he'd drafted a few of them himself. Inter-team fraternization was one discouraged-but-inevitable thing. But 'intimate interspecies contact', in Fraiser's lexicon, was quite another potential diplomatic and medical tangle. Or disaster.

But the tingle in his palm, the shivering spiral of desire that unfurled between his legs, and the growing urgency to touch, taste, to seek his partner's hidden, tender places, left no room for hesitation.

"Thor." Jack gasped as his fingers slid along his partner's skin and tangled in his hair. "What am I feeling?" he asked breathlessly. "What is this feeling when I touch you?"

His friend's strong arms wound around him, pulling him close so their lips nearly met.

"Do you...truly wish to know now?" Thor's lips brushed Jack's at last and behind his closed eyes it seemed that brilliant sunlight sparkled on a restless lake. Fractured light, nearly blinding in its intensity.

"No," he murmured brokenly as his friend pressed him down, spreading him out against the cool sand. The internal fire that had lay smoldering since they'd first touched flared suddenly, its vibrant flames licking along his ribs, scouring his bones down to the marrow, desperate to burn him to ash. "Oh god. It hurts. I don't know how. What--"

"Let go here, my friend," Thor whispered, slipping his hand between their bodies and pressing his palm against Jack's chest. "Release your heart and I will show you."

Jack writhed beneath the heavy press of Thor's body, struggling to let go in a way that he'd never imagined and yet whose shape he could clearly taste, a shadow of the peace and completion that he knew lay just beyond his reach.

"Bakki." Thor commanded into the vivid, seething chaos that threatened to shake him from consciousness. "Look at me."

"Thor!" Jack thought he said through senses grown numb, seared by the hot alien winds that howled through him and stoked the ravenous flames.

"Let go," the winds hissed insistently, seductively. It seemed then that he knelt on a rocky, windswept cliff, the ground beneath him vibrating with lash of the sea against the rocks far below. When Jack opened his eyes, the cool stars of ancient Othala shone down and through him, taming the greedy flames, placating the waves, and shaping the restless wind into a funnel of calm.

"Yes," he said, staring blindly into Thor's eyes. "Yes," he whispered again and leapt from the cliff into the eye of the storm and the depthless waters beyond.

*

Cool ivory moonlight streamed through the room, gilding the edges of the bed draperies and filtering though his sleep-frosted lashes. A lingering glow of sensuality warmed Jack from within. It had been a long time since he had awakened in the deepest hours of night to the warmth and softness of naked skin beneath his finger tips.

Since Laira.

He'd resisted for a long time. Carefully and respectfully deflected her hopeful innuendo. Buried himself in hard labor, sweat, exhaustion. Had thrown himself into organizing, rebuilding, sharing what he could with the Edorans: knowledge, skill, a strong back. All without in fact truly sharing himself. But ultimately, despair and loneliness had brought him to her bed. Deep affection, admiration -- imperfect imitations of love -- had kept him there throughout the long days and nights of his exile. And when her love proved stronger than his, when against all odds his friends had reopened the gate, he knew he had never felt the razor's edge of guilt -- or ambivalence -- so keenly.

Later, in the weeks following his return home, he would awaken suddenly in the night sensing some lack. Expecting to hear the whisper of her exhalations, to feel the heat of her body brush against his. As he had following his divorce.

In time, he'd grown used to the silence and absence. Grown resigned to the knowledge that such simple pleasures -- shifting close in the night, eyes closed, and planting drowsy kisses against the soft skin of a cheek -- were again denied him.

Except, of course in dreams.

But in his private dreams the skin under his hands covered lean, hard muscle and the body curled against his matched the length and strength of his own. Like now.

On the edge of waking, he nearly whispered, "Daniel." But caught himself sharply, coming awake all at once, when the softly spoken query, "Bakki?" sent a shiver down his spine.

Jack raised himself on one elbow as his friend turned to face him. He carefully brushed the dark hair away from Thor's face. The illusion of humanity was astonishing. He traced the angle of Thor's faintly stubbled jaw, the curve of his lips, as amazed and affected now as he had been when they'd first met on the shores of a recreated, bygone lake. Even now, as they lay in a sleep-warmed tangle, some inner sense -- of propriety? respect? -- kept him from questioning too closely the 'hows', if not the 'whys' of Thor's alternate form.

Thor lay still under his scrutiny and his caress, eyes slitted, slivers of moonlit obsidian. His face revealed nothing, not a ripple of concern. But during the night, with each new lesson in alien passion, Jack had learned to listen beneath the surface and in the space beneath his own heart, he could sense a strange, lavender-blue uncertainty that muted his partner's lingering pleasure. His own emotions were a murky, shadowed pool.

"Jack?" Thor asked softly. "Are you well?"

Jack sat back against the pillows and shook his head. "Yes," he said slowly. "It's just--." He struggled briefly, then fell silent, feeling awkward, elated and confused, with an ache in a place he thought -- or perhaps hoped -- was long scarred over and forgotten. "Just," he concluded helplessly, forcing a weak smile.

Beside him, Thor rolled to his side and frowned. Hoping to buy time to settle his emotions and forestall his friend's inquiry, Jack swiftly changed the subject.

"So, Thor," he said, with forced light-heartedness. "You've called me 'Bakki' twice now. Should I be offended?"

Head tilted and eyes narrowed, Thor stared hard at him for a long moment then, to Jack's relief, went with the change in topic.

"Not at all," his friend said with a slight smile. "Rather, _bakki_ is a...term of endearment. It literally refers to the inner cutting edge of the traditional Asgard honor blade. The bakki edge lay closest to the heart when the double-bladed _hjartsaema_ was...sheathed."

When Thor spoke again, his voice was low and he avoided Jack's gaze, choosing to follow the path of his fingers along a fold in the sheet instead.

"According to tradition," he continued. "True honor consists of the union of two halves: logic, as well as...passion. The _afram_ edge is the logical mirror to the bakki."

Thor looked up at him then and Jack tensed, sensing something unsaid that made his skin flush and his stomach tighten.

"Metaphorically, it often refers to an...intimate...relationship that is...essential. Without reason. An affection freely given. And perhaps," Thor said very quietly. "Perhaps even a bit...unwise."

Jack flinched as a bright, hot pain in his chest followed the unexpected tumble of memories. Of Matthew, Daniel. And, much to his surprise, of Thor.

"Jack?" Beside him, Thor sat up quickly and shifted close. "Jack. Look at me," he said gently, grasping Jack's chin.

When Jack turned, he found that he couldn't look away, couldn't help but -- for a fleeting moment -- see someone _else_ beside him.

He rarely engaged in games of What-If. What if Matt had never gotten sick? What if he'd survived the cancer? What if Jack had never admitted his love, what if he'd waited too long? What-If was a game for the self-indulgent, the guilt-ridden, the hopeless; he tried never to be any of those things.

Sometimes, he even succeeded.

But the presence of the man beside him, familiar and yet not, forced him to confront a dangerous, twenty-year cache of unasked What-Ifs. Would their love have lasted? Would they have lain comfortably together, like this, years later: gray hair, wrinkles, scars, their bodies worn by time, their hearts unbroken? Would he have been strong enough to honor their love throughout his career? Or would he have chosen the easier path -- the one dictated by the rules?

As a teenager in love with a dying man, the choice had been less complex. Less dangerous. He closed his eyes and swallowed hard. Would he have been strong enough otherwise?

Was he strong enough now?

"You should tell him."

Multiple meanings, like unseen river currents, lay beneath Thor's quiet statement. Jack sighed and opened his eyes. Even in his most ambitious day dreams, he'd never managed to confess his history, let alone his attraction, his affection to Daniel. "It's not that simple," he whispered around the lump that had formed in his throat.

Thor traced a tingling path along the edge of Jack's chin before dropping his hand. "Possibly not," his friend conceded. "But perhaps, in his case, it is worth the risk."

Perhaps. But the obstacles, as well as the odds, were daunting. And there were no strategies or tactics he knew to employ to ensure a favorable outcome, to assess the risk that success or failure might pose to his team, to their mission. Or to him.

"We don't always get what we want," he said, turning away to watch the flutter of the draperies at the foot of the bed.

"No. Not always." Thor's presence was a warm, comforting pressure beside him. "But sometimes..." His friend's voice trailed off into the unseen hint of a smile. "Sometimes, we do."

Beyond the bed canopy, out in the sleeping forest, Jack could hear the trickle of water against stone. A steady, musical drip-drip that would eventually, given time, wear through the rock to its heart. He sat quietly, arms around his knees, and considered the uncharted terrain on which he'd found himself, wondering if he possessed a fraction of his friend's wild, patient courage.

"Bakki."

He turned when Thor placed a hand on his arm. Ribbons of shadow, light and dark, rippled over his friend's features, glittering in the corners of his tilted eyes, making him seem familiar, then mysterious and alien by turns. Thousands of years and an entire galaxy lay between them and yet, with no assurance of success or certainty of outcome, Thor had created this dream-made-real then released it into Jack's keeping.

Contemplating a similar risk left him nearly breathless but also somehow deeply settled, certain. "Yes," he said as the pain in his throat eased. "You're right. Sometimes we do." A light breeze caressed his skin raising gooseflesh on his naked limbs. He ignored it and instead, leaned in and gently kissed his friend. "Thanks for the reminder."

In the space behind his heart, a now familiar sensation of lush warmth unfurled as he pushed his partner down against the sheets. The gold-green heat oozed between his ribs, flowed into and down each limb, then sharply arced between their bodies at each point of contact. They both gasped.

Before the flames could spiral out of control, Jack pulled back from the kiss. "Thor," he said, brushing at his tingling lips with his fingers. "Now might be a good time for that explanation."

Thor wrapped one hand around the back of Jack's neck and tugged him downward. "Later."

"Now." Jack pried the fingers loose with difficulty.

Thor sighed. "If you insist." He sounded put-upon, but Jack could see the glint of humor in his narrowed eyes.

"Yeah," he said, pinning Thor beneath him. "I think I insist."

"Very well. I will try to explain." His friend stroked his fingers along the edge of Jack's lips briefly before dropping his hand. "Once I regain the use of my lungs," he added meaningfully.

Jack laughed and rolled to the side. "Better now?"

"I am," his friend said, with a faint smile. The bed dipped slightly as Thor sat up and hugged his knees. The long, dark tangle of his hair spilled over his shoulders, obscuring his face.

A cool breeze sighed through the curtains and Jack shivered, shifting further under the sheet while he waited for Thor to speak. His friend hesitated so long that he grew concerned.

"Um, Thor?" he asked softly, smoothing his finger tips over the arch of his friend's nearest hip. "Gonna share with me here?"

Thor began haltingly. "You would not know this, Jack," he said, his voice muffled by the curtain of his hair. "Since you have only once seen more than one of my people together. But, unlike humans, we tend to avoid...casual...physical contact with one another."

Jack nearly pulled his hand away, then decided that they'd long since passed beyond 'casual'. "Yeah. So?"

"The restrictions exist more for practical reasons rather than...cultural ones."

"Be-cause?" Jack lay back against the pillow and hid his eyes in the crook of his elbow, resigned to prying loose the information one metaphorical tooth at a time.

"Because, Jack, all Asgard are highly...bio-aware. Physical contact intensifies the effect, making it difficult to maintain privacy. Therefore, we tend to avoid such contact. Except when seeking...intimacy."

"Bio-what?" Jack vaguely remembered asking the same question before in almost exactly the same tone.

"Sensitive to biological emanations. Emotions, for instance." The sheets rustled and the ends of Thor's hair tickled his nose for a moment as his friend stretched out beside him again. "You too possess this...bio-awareness, to a lesser extent. What you feel when we touch. Your ability to see through the illusion of the Osk'Dreyma. Your skills in stealth and detection. For an adult human, your ability is surprisingly well-developed."

Somewhere in the past thirty hours, Jack had lost his ability to be shocked. Mildly surprised, yes, but stunned into speechlessness, no. Weird, unlikely, and no-fucking-way had ceased to have any meaning whenever Thor was involved.

"Okay, sure. Cool," he said with a mental shrug. Bio-aware. He'd probably get the shivers about it -- and whatever _it_ might entail -- in a few days, but at least a few things made more sense now. Practically speaking, if nothing else, this ability made for incredible sex.

However, when he focussed his attention on that odd space beneath his heart, he seemed feel a thin, violet echo of Thor's guilt liberally mixed with disbelief.

"What?" He opened his eyes and looked up at his friend. "So we're both bio-aware. What's the big deal?"

"I should have mentioned this before."

"Yeah, well. We got distracted."

Thor shook his head slowly. "No. I mean much earlier. When we first touched. It was...unethical for me to delay for so long."

Realizing that his friend was truly upset, Jack finally propped himself up on his elbows. Cultural exchange was a serious bitch.

"Thor. You've read my mind. Rummaged through my memories. Snatched me out of a hallway and into a fairy tale complete with dragons, pie-stealing ferrets, really good fake steak and clams, and a kick-ass living sail boat. Oh, and somewhere along the way you became _human_ for godsake." He paused for a breath. "Not to mention the fact that in the past few hours, we've gotten naked, horizontal, and swapped more than just a few 'biological emanations'. All that and I'm _still here_. Do you _really_ think at this point that I give a damn that I didn't get the full-disclosure video at the start of the tour?"

By the time Jack wound down, his friend was smiling again.

"When explained that way," he said. "I suppose not."

"You're just damn lucky that I'm such a broad-minded and tolerant guy."

Their bare thighs slid together as Thor leaned close. "Indeed," his friend said softly, his words stroking Jack's lips in a near kiss. "I am most fortunate."

Jack closed his eyes then sighed as Thor clasped his hands and pressed their awakening bodies together. "Damn right," he murmured, running his bare toes along Thor's lean, impossibly human, shin.

This time, when the simmering pool of heat ignited, Jack fully understood. He opened his heart and allowed the shared flames to have their way.

**6.**

"That is my window. Just now  
I have so softly wakened.  
I thought that I would float.  
How far does my life reach,  
and where does the night begin?" --Woman in Love, Rainer Maria Rilke

A persistent mellow chime pulled him from sleep the second time. Thor was already out of bed and clothed, wearing a worried expression. Behind him, the sky was lightening rapidly.

Jack rolled to his side and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "What's up?"

"Jack. Please remain here." Thor placed his hand on Jack's arm and smiled. It was not reassuring. "I will return shortly," he said, then disappeared in a flash of light.

"Argh." Jack flopped back on the bed and covered his watering eyes. He tried to doze until Thor returned but gave up when his imagination -- thousands of creepy purple bugs and Goa'uld death gliders -- got the better of him.

He rolled out of bed, startling Aldrnari and Hret in the process, and pulled on his BDUs. The cloth felt strangely rough, unfamiliar against his skin and his gun felt heavy and cold. The glowing digits on his watch read 04:52.

At the foot of the bed, the reykr peered at him intently, chittering to themselves. "Something tells me the vacation is over, kids," he said, running his fingers through their soft fur.

Boots and socks in hand, he descended the few steps from the bed platform and crossed the cool slate tiles. He paused to stretch on tip-toe until his spine popped then leaned against a carved wooden support. Animals scurried through the darkened underbrush, calling to their mates while above the sheltering trees, violet, rose, and vermilion streaked the early morning sky, chasing away the stars.

One of his earliest memories was of dawn. Lying in his narrow twin bed beside the window, dressed in plaid flannel pajamas, watching the rising sun spin the frosted pane into glittering lace. In later memories, he recalled following his father into the woods, stumbling over unseen roots and branches, battered tackle box and fishing pole in hand, afraid of the lingering darkness but determined to be brave, to make his dad proud.

Years later, there were sun rises spent on Matt's roof following marathon stellar photography sessions, of charting the phases of Venus, or simply reveling in the thrill of being alone and awake in the stillness. And still later, there were whispered confidences, heated kisses exchanged in the growing light and the soft, wordless cries of newly discovered passion.

But the coming daylight wasn't always warm or benign. There were the chill dawns that preceded partings, the bitter, arctic dawns before endings and funerals, and the burnt ash of his dawns of exile. Mornings when the night's desperate dreaming dissolved into the harshness of truth as the night yielded to day.

He'd stood at the window of his rented room and watched indigo become sodden gray on the morning he'd laid his marriage to rest, its spine fatally broken under the weight of grief and recriminations. The joy had been sucked out of their love like marrow from bone, leaving it porous and brittle. Insufficient.

It had been nearing dawn, after an evening of drunken celebration, when he'd finally agreed to leave Daniel behind on Abydos. The sky had still been brilliant with stars, dawn present only in the taste of the gritty desert wind, evident in the faint shimmer of light above the dunes. Exile -- even if willing -- had seemed a horrific reward for saving two worlds and countless lives. It had been hard to leave a man he'd come to call 'friend' behind.

And he tried not hard to remember the desolation of morning light as seen through rusty iron bars, the knowledge that searing heat and parched misery were bare minutes away, his body too weak even to shed tears of pain -- from his wounds, from missing Sara, and his son. Or of desperately searching the valley at sunrise, hoping to see a metallic glimmer, to find a dully gleaming arch amid the rubble, anything that might reveal where the Stargate lay in the meteor-ravaged countryside.

Light had finally penetrated the forest canopy, burning through the tendrils of mist that rose from the night-damp earth. Jack brushed moisture away from the tiles and sat down at the base of the wooden support. As he pulled on his socks and boots, he wondered how he would come to remember this dawn. Assuming that two false suns in a simulation on board an orbiting space craft could truly be said to rise.

Footsteps and the rustle vegetation heralded Thor's return. Jack looked up from tightening his laces as his friend walked up the stone path. "Trouble?"

Thor looked tired and disheartened. "Yes. I have been recalled to Othala. The Nemesis have returned," he said. "It is not a summons that I may ignore."

"We never can catch a break, can we?"

Thor closed his eyes and turned away. "No. It seems that we can not. War waits for no one."

Once, daybreak might have dispelled the previous night's intimacy, leaving morning-after awkwardness in its wake. But now, even across the slight distance between them, Jack could feel the deep pulse of Thor's anguish. Joints creaking, he stood slowly, slipped his arms around his friend, and held him close until the pain eased. "How much time do we have?"

"Not enough," Thor whispered. His breath tickled the hair on the back of Jack's neck.

"Oh, of course not." Jack chuckled, pulling back slightly so he could see his friend's face. "That would mean the universe was actually _fair_."

Thor lifted his head and smiled. "No doubt an unreasonable expectation," he said and clasped Jack's hand. "Walk with me?"

This time, Jack knew the names of the plants and animals they saw along the trail down to the beach. The tall, gnarled _vithrhjart_ standing alongside the beautiful, but foul smelling _frjoferligr_. The tiny, bone-white, tufted _smarhela_ who scurried along the trail like dandelion froth. Knew enough to be surprised to see _sumarsolarsetr_ in bloom this early in the season and a copse of _angan_ in a pool of standing water.

"Thought I wasn't paying attention before, didn't you?" he said smugly as they pushed through the palm fronds at the trail's end and stepped out on to the beach.

"I should have known better."

"Yeah." Jack decided to rub it in a bit. "You should have, Mr. All-Knowing-And-Wise."

Thor dug his fingers sharply into Jack's side.

"Hey!" he yelped and leapt away before another wrestling match could ensue. "None of that. I don't want sand in my gun."

After a brief skirmish, his friend relented, but Jack was wary of the wicked glitter in his eyes.

They walked in silence for a while, following the high tide mark across the sand towards the remains of their previous night's fire. Although the yellow sun had nearly risen, a thin strip of diamond spattered sapphire, a stubborn bit of night, lingered on the horizon far out to sea.

"Do you know, Jack, that I never actually visited this cove?" He could barely hear Thor's voice above the quite lapping of the waves. "We mapped it from orbit and Agaeti and Branrefr spoke of it in their reports. They urged me to see it, but--."

But. I was too busy. Something came up. And then, there was no more time.

Jack stopped beside the familiar volcanic slab and poked at the still smoldering ashes of their fire with the toe of his boot. "So, it's kind of our place, then."

Thor looked at him sharply, startled out of his mood. "Yes. I suppose that it is," he said. "That is how I shall think of it."

The new morning was still, nearly silent except for the gentle exhalations of the ocean. With Thor's hand in his, Jack felt decades younger, like a young man again on the exhausted, exhilarated and bittersweet morning after his senior prom.

"Thor. Have I told you--," he paused as he heard a single, mechanical chime above the hiss and sigh of the waves. "Have I thanked you for everything?"

"You have." Thor squeezed his hand. "Although, I am not certain that I--"

"You have, too," Jack echoed softly, turning away towards the horizon. The stars were gone, the night finally consumed by day. "And now, you've got to go."

"I do. I must have ample time to prepare an excuse for my absence."

Despite the ache in his chest, Jack couldn't help but smile. "Hey. It was all for a good cause, right? Intergalactic good will. Making nice with the allies. All that?"

"Indeed. And I suspect that, like the High Council, your General Hammond will find that explanation overwhelmingly...convincing."

"Yeah, well. Okay. Good point." Jack turned to face his friend. "Thor, you're not going to, uh, get in trouble over this, are you?"

"You assume that I am not already _in_ trouble, Jack."

He couldn't help but laugh then at his friend's expression. "We are both so screwed, aren't we?"

The chime sounded again; it seemed more insistent this time.

"I wish--." He closed his eyes and memorized the salt taste of the faint breeze, the pulse of the waves, the deep, internal tide of their twined and twinned emotions.

"As do I, my friend," Thor said sadly then removed the crystal from his pocket and cupped their hands around it. His friend leaned forward and their lips met lightly once.

Jack blinked and between one breath and the next, the world dissolved around them. The lavender sand bled away into smooth metallic deck plates. The rocks, the waves, and the smudge of the forest expanded, elongated to form the distant walls of the chamber. And above them, the bright arch of the sky faded into the dimly lit ceiling.

Thor's hand was cool in his. The fingers long, yet smooth. Faintly shimmering, gray. Non-human. The transition should have been jarring, Thor's shift in form shocking, but wasn't.

"Bakki," he said, suddenly understanding.

Thor didn't smile in this form but Jack caught the impression of it nonetheless. His friend tilted his head, blinking slowly, then pressed the crystal into Jack's palm. "Keep it, Jack," he said. "To remember."

Jack closed his fist around the cool stone. "As if I could forget," he whispered.

"Still--."

"Still," he agreed.

"Until we meet again?"

Jack nodded. "Until th--." He wasn't surprised to feel the prickle of tears on his cheeks when the light took him mid-syllable.

**7.**

"Wonders happen if we can succeed  
in passing through the harshest danger;  
but only in a bright and purely granted  
achievement can we realize the wonder."  
\--As once the winged energy of delight..., Rainer Maria Rilke  


Beaming down was no less pleasant than beaming up had been. More tingling, more roaring in his ears, the peculiar sensation of being stretched, dissolved, and then a sharp jolt with yet another gray corridor at the end. This time, the hallway directly outside his office.

At 05:41, the shift change was still more than two hours away; thankfully the hall was empty. Exactly as when he had left it. Difficult to believe that nearly thirty-six hours had passed.

Jack walked quickly towards his office, scrubbing at his face with the back of his hand, disoriented and reeling, intent on escape, without even a single lame excuse in mind.

He was almost home -- the key slid in smoothly, the knob turned under his hand, the door creaked open slowly -- when Murphy's Law caught up with him at last.

"Jack! Where the _hell_ have you been?"

Shit. Jack paused with his hand on the knob and leaned his forehead against the door. The only saving grace was that he hadn't run in to Teal'c or Carter first. Though his money was on Thor, rather than Murphy, as the author of his current predicament.

"General Hammond has the entire base on alert. Looking for you!" Daniel sounded slightly breathless, as if he'd been running. Or was exhausted.

Jack looked up as his friend approached and frowned. Daniel's face was pale, slightly scruffy, and his eyes were bloodshot. He looked like he hadn't slept for -- thirty-six hours. Jack closed his eyes and sighed.

"Jack? Is everything okay?"

He felt Daniel's gentle touch on his shoulder all the way to the pit of his stomach. "Maybe I should be asking _you_ that, Danny."

Daniel frowned. "Don't change the subject." His friend's grip tightened and his eyes flickered over Jack's face, lingering on the remains of his tears. "What's going on?" He grabbed Jack by both shoulders and shook him slightly. "And where have you _been_ for the past day and a half?"

His eyes slid away from the concern on Daniel's face to the smooth, milky crystal in his left hand. Daniel slowly followed his gaze then looked up suddenly, lips parted slightly, eyes wide with recognition.

"I've been--." A thousand flippant responses leapt to mind, each designed to distract, to lighten the mood, to create distance between himself and this man, whom he...loved.

All at once, he felt as if he'd been struck through the heart with a white-hot spike. He leaned heavily against the door when his knees almost buckled. They stared at one another as Jack considered the possibilities. And the consequences of silence.

His hands shook a little and his mouth and throat were dry. Nonetheless, he straightened his spine, met his friend's eyes and said, "--Fishing. I've been fishing."

"_Fishing_?" Daniel's expression hovered comically between suspicion, annoyance, and disbelief.

"Yeah." His face felt hot with the heat of his sudden smile.

"Ja-ack," his friend warned, though his voice carried a hint of reluctant laughter.

"No, really. I'm serious." He pocketed the stone then took Daniel's hand in his. There was an odd, encouraging softness in his friend's eyes when he laced their fingers. "C'mon. I'll tell you about it," he said, then pulled Daniel the rest of the way into his office and closed the door.

Hundreds of feet above them, the single yellow sun was rising. Jack had no idea if the sky was cloudy or clear, if it was cold or unseasonably warm, if clear weather was forecast or if there were storms ahead. He realized that it didn't matter; he'd already decided how we would remember this dawn.

_Finis._

* * *

**Glossary**

**Afl, Angan, and Kyrr:** Thor's three children.

**Agaeti:** Thor's 'female' partner.

**Aldrnari:** the reykr who took a liking to Jack

**Alfheim:** the name of the planet where Thor's family was killed.

**Angan:** a plant native to Alfheim that is usually found on high, dry ground.

**Bakki:** the inner cutting edge of the traditional Asgard honor blade (hjartsaema), also a term of endearment more or less equivalent to Jack's definition of 'lover'.

**Branrefr:** Thor's 'male' partner.

**Barnsaldr-nithrlag:** literally, 'childhood's end', the Asgard equivalent of puberty, after which sex differentiation can occur.

**Duthsonnr:** a prepubescent Asgard child.

**Frjoferligr:** an awful smelling plant native to Alfheim.

**Gandreith:** a sorcerer's chariot, the name that Branrefr gave the alien space craft found embedded in the rock on the sea floor of Alfheim.

**Haarfegr and Orthspakr:** two of the four reykr in the samfelag.

**Hjartsaema:** the ancient, double-bladed Asgard honor weapon; no longer used.

**Hoel Saerfornandi:** the 'Dwelling of the Sea Spirits', name that Thor and Branrefr gave the domed city on the sea floor of Alfheim.

**Hret:** the reykr most often seen with Thor.

**Lifsigla:** a 'living sail' grown from a biomagnetic material.

**Lifsiglaskip:** a single-sailed Asgard water-craft shaped like a catamaran that uses magnetism to control its sail and rudders.

**Osk'dreyma:** literally a wish-dream, the Asgard equivalent of a hologram.

**Samfelag of Reykr:** literally a fellowship of reykr, term describing a family of reykr.

**Saerfornandi:** the name Thor and Branrefr gave to the technological advanced creatures that once inhabited Alfheim.

**Smarhela:** a small, fluffy white creature the size of a mouse, native to Alfheim.

**Sumarsolarsetr:** another plant native to Alfheim that flowers in late winter.

**Vatnandi:** an aquatic, dragon-like creature native to Alfheim, kin to the original, technologically advanced inhabitants.

**Vindrvitr:** the _Wise Wind_, Thor's lifsiglaskip, designed by his partner Agaeti.

**Vithrhjart:** a tree native to Alfheim.

**Author's Note:**

> Story includes death of non-canon character.


End file.
